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PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  CHILE 


SOUTH  AMERICA 

Social,  Industrial,  and  Political 


A TWENTY-FIVE-THOUSAND-MILE  JOURNEY  IN 
SEARCH  OF  INFORMATION 

in  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  and  the  Lands  of  the  Equator, 
Colombia,  Ecuador,  Peru,  Bolivia,  Chile,  Tierra  del  Fuego, 
the  Falhlands,  Argentina,  Paraguay,  Uruguay,  cBragil, 
the  Guianas,  Venezuela,  and  the  Orinoco  ‘Basin  : : : : 

THE  RESOURCES  AND  POSSIBILITIES  OF  THE  VARIOUS  CO  UNTRIES - 
THE  LIFE  AND  CUSTOMS  OF  THE  PEOPLE— THEIR  GOVERN- 
MENT S,  BUSINESS  METHODS , AND  TRADE 


FRANK  G.  CARPENTER 

Author  of  « THROUGH  ASIA,"  and  « THROUGH  NORTH  AMERICA  » 


Tuliy  Illustrated 


WESTERN  W.  WILSON,  PUBLISHER 
14  THOMAS  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1900, 

BY 

FRANK  G.  CARPENTER 


PREFACE 


f^'CgC^KE  present  volume  is  the  outcome  of  a journalistic  expe- 
dition to  South  America  in  search  of  information  for  the 
American  business  man  and  the  general  reader.  The 
journey  occupied  about  a year  of  constant  travel,  during  which 
the  author  visited  the  various  countries,  spending  some  time  in 
their  capitals  and  ports,  and  making  many  journeys  into  the  in- 
terior. 

During  his  travels  the  author  wrote  letters  for  many  of  the 
leading  newspapers  of  the  United  States,  and  at  the  same  time 
prepared  the  notes  which  form  the  basis  of  this  book.  His  aim 
has  been  to  take  the  reader  as  far  as  possible  through  the  scenes 
described,  and  for  this  reason  the  matter  is,  in  the  main,  given 
as  it  was  penned  on  the  ground. 

The  work  is  more  a study  of  the  commercial  and  social 
life  of  the  cities,  and  a description  of  how  the  people  live  and 
work  in  the  country,  than  a diary  of  travel  and  adventure.  It 
describes  the  chief  industries,  notes  the  characteristic  features  of 
the  inhabitants,  discusses  the  resources  and  possibilities  of  the 
various  countries,  and  incidentally  points  out  the  chances  for  the 
investment  of  American  capital  and  the  increase  of  American 
trade. 

These  matters,  however,  are  discussed  from  the  standpoint  of 
human  interest  and  for  the  average  reader,  the  aim  being  to  give 
a plain,  simple  narrative,  conveying  the  information  about  South 
America  most  desired  at  the  present  time.  The  author  has  as 
far  as  possible  verified  all  statements  of  facts;  but  many  of  the 

(v) 


VI 


PREFACE 


South  American  republics  are  lamentably  lacking  in  accurate 
statistics,  and  in  order  to  secure  information  the  traveller  has  to 
rely  to  a large  extent  upon  personal  interviews.  The  various  so- 
called  authorities  on  South  America  are  now  of  little  value,  for 
the  continent  is  rapidly  changing,  and  what  was  true  of  its  peo- 
ple and  condition  a few  years  ago  may  not  be  so  now. 

In  his  work  the  author  has  received  assistance  from  so  many 
sources  that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  render  proper  thanks  to 
all.  He  wishes,  however,  to  express  his  gratitude  to  our  Cabinet 
Ministers  at  Washington,  to  the  General  of  the  United  States 
Army,  and  to  other  officials,  for  letters  of  introduction  which 
opened  to  him  the  government  sources  of  the  South  American 
republics,  and  also  to  our  Ministers  and  Consuls  stationed  at  the 
various  ports  and  cities  of  South  America  for  putting  themselves 
at  the  author’s  disposal  and  materially  assisting  him  in  the  col- 
lection of  information.  He  also  tenders  his  thanks  to  the  Presi- 
dents of  the  various  South  American  republics  and  their  officials 
for  many  courtesies  and  favours,  and  also  to  the  people  of  South 
America  generally,  for  their  very  cordial  treatment  of  him,  a 
stranger  in  their  lands. 

The  Author. 

Washington,  D.  C.,  February,  1900. 


i 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  PANAMA 

PAGE 

A Winter  Sail  over  the  Caribbean  Sea  on  an  American  Steamer  — A New 
Use  for  the  Gulf  Stream  — Landing  at  Colon — Its  Hospitals  and 
its  Cemeteries  — A Graveyard  of  Foreigners  — The  Terrors  of  the 
Isthmus.  ............  23 


CHAPTER  II 

ACROSS  THE  ISTHMUS  BY  RAILROAD 

The  Story  of  the  Panama  Railroad,  which  has  made  Fortunes  for  its 
Owners  — It  Charges  the  Highest  Fares  and  Pays  Dividends  of 
Millions  — The  Scenery  of  the  Isthmus  — The  Chagres  River  — A 
Look  at  the  City  of  Panama  — Its  Odd  Social  Customs  — Its  Lot- 
tery and  its  Bull-Ring.  .........  30 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  PANAMA  CANAL 

A Description  of  this  Colossal  Work,  which  has  Cost  a Quarter  of  a Bil- 
lion Dollars  and  is  not  Half  Done  — A Walk  along  the  Canal  — 
Three  Thousand  Labourers  and  What  They  Are  Doing  — The 
Canal  Scandals,  and  how  De  Lesseps  and  his  Associates  stole 
Millions  — Fortunes  in  Machinery  now  going  to  Waste — Will  the 
Canal  be  Completed  ? 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  WONDERS  OF  COLOMBIA 

An  Undeveloped  Empire  still  unexplored  — A Look  at  the  Cauca  Valley, 
where  Americans  are  now  Settling  — A River  of  Vinegar  — 
Bogota,  the  Capital  — What  Colombia  produces — It  is  a Land  of 
Gold  — Queer  Features  of  Travel  on  the  Southern  Pacific  — How 
one  feels  on  the  Equator.  .........  50 


(7) 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  EQUATOR 

PAGE 

The  Wonders  of  Ecuador — Trees  that  weave  Blankets,  and  Mules  that 
wear  Pantalets  — The  Curious  City  of  Guayaquil  — Its  Police  and 
Fire  Department  — Where  the  Taxes  are  Low  and  the  Death-Rate 
is  High  — Ecuador’s  Debt  Slaves,  and  how  they  are  Oppressed.  . 54 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BANGKOK  OF  ECUADOR 

A Ride  up  the  Guayas  River  to  the  Foot  of  the  Andes  — The  Floating 
Town  of  Babahoyo,  whose  People  live  upon  the  Water  — A Visit 
to  the  Cacao  Plantations,  whence  our  Chocolate  comes  — Ecua- 
dorian Farming,  and  its  enormous  Profits  — Wages  and  the  Cost 
of  Living.  ............  62 

CHAPTER  VII 

THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  EQUATOR 

The  Highlands  of  the  Northern  Andes — Chimborazo  and  Cotopaxi  — 

Quito,  the  highest  Capital  City  in  the  World  — Civilization  in  Ecua- 
dor— The  different  classes  of  the  People  — How  the  Whites  rule 
— The  Aborigines  — Savage  Indians  who  bake  the  Heads  of  their 
Enemies.  ............  69 

CHAPTER  VIII 

ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  AMERICAN  DESERT 

A Land  of  Dry  Sand,  where  it  Rains  only  once  in  Seven  Years  — 
Skeletons  and  Mummies  — Travelling  Sand-Dunes,  which  are  always 
on  the  March  — Among  the  Ruins  of  the  Incas  — The  old  City  of 
Jequetepec — Cajamarca,  and  Atahualpa’s  Prison  Cell,  which  he 
filled  with  Gold  — The  Sunsets  of  the  Desert.  .....  77 

CHAPTER  IX 

THE  IRRIGATED  VALLEYS  OF  PERU 

A Land  where  Cotton  grows  on  Trees  and  is  Red  in  Colour  — The  big 
Sugar  Plantations,  and  how  the}'-  are  Managed  — Peruvian  Labour 
and  Wages  — A Look  at  the  Peons  and  their  Homes. 


84 


CONTENTS 


9 


CHAPTER  X 

AN  HOUR  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 

PAGE 

The  Romantic  career  of  a South  American  statesman  — How  he  fought 
his  way  through  Revolution  to  Power  — His  Narrow  Escape  in 
a woman's  clothes  — The  Resources  of  Peru  — One  of  the  Richest 
Countries  in  the  World,  with  the  poorest  Inhabitants  — Peru’s  War 
with  Chile,  and  how  her  Treasure  was  Stolen.  ....  88 

CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CAPITAL  OF  PERU 

A Magnificent  City  made  of  Mud  and  Fishing-Poles — How  Lima  Houses 
are  Built — Chickens  that  live  on  the  Housetops  — The  Stores  and 
the  great  Cathedral  — The  pretty  Girls  of  Lima — Their  odd  Cus- 
toms and  Costumes  — Lima  on  Horseback  — Women  who  Ride 
Astride  — A City  where  Mules  take  the  place  of  the  Huckster  Cart.  95 

CHAPTER  XII 

DO  WN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR 

An  Exciting  Trip  from  the  Mountain-Tops  to  the  Pacific  ocean  over 
the  steepest  Railroad  in  the  World  — Its  Track  climbs  upwards  of 
Three  Miles  in  less  than  a Hundred  — Its  Cost  in  Money  and  Lives 
— The  Scenic  Wonders  of  the  Andes  — How  One  feels  Three  Miles 
above  the  Sea  — The  Horrors  of  Soroche,  or  Mountain  Sickness  — 

A Snowball  fight  in  the  Clouds  — On  the  Eastern  Side  of  the 
Andes.  . . . . . . . . . . . . .nr 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 

The  Journey  up  the  Mountains  from  Mollendo  to  Puno  — Across  the 
Pampa  de  Islay  — A Visit  to  Arequipa,  the  chief  City  of  Southern 
Peru  — The  Harvard  Observatory,  and  its  wonderful  Photographs 
of  the  Southern  Heavens  — Mount  Misti,  the  highest  Meteorological 
Observatory  on  Earth  — The  Plateau  of  Peru,  and  its  Curious 
People.  .............  122 


CHAPTER  XIV 

STEAMBOATING  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 


Lake  Titicaca,  the  highest  of  Navigable  Waters — It  is  half  as  large  as 
Lake  Erie,  and  twice  as  high  up  in  the  air  as  Mount  Washington 


IO 


CONTENTS 


— How  steel  Steamers  were  brought  to  it  on  the  Backs  of  Men 
and  Mules  over  Passes  higher  than  Pike’s  Peak  — Its  Sacred 
Islands,  and  their  wonderful  Ruins  — The  Cujious  Inhabitants 
who  Live  upon  its  Shores — Balsas,  or  Native  Boats  made  of 
Straw — Curious  Animals  about  Titicaca — The  Llama,  the  Vicuna, 
and  the  Alpaca.  ........... 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  LA  PAZ 

Strange  Features  of  Life  and  Business  in  the  Heart  of  Bolivia — The 
Indians  and  the  Cholos  — Mules  and  Donkeys  as  Beer-Waggons, 
Bread-Carts,  and  Hearses  — A Visit  to  the  Markets  — The  Curious 
Vegetables  and  Fruits  of  Interior  South  America  — Frozen  Potatoes 
— Beans  that  taste  like  Ice-Cream,  and  Indian  Corn  that  makes 
Flour  without  Grinding 

CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  AYMARA  INDIANS 

The  Curious  People  who  Live  on  the  Plateau  of  Bolivia  — A Nation 
of  Slaves  who  are  contented  with  Slavery — A Peep  into  their 
Huts  — Their  Feuds,  and  how  they  Fight  with  Slings  — About 
Coca,  the  favourite  Indian  Chew  — Chicha,  or  Bolivian  Beer  — Goats 
skinned  alive  to  make  Brandy  Bottles.  ..... 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  THE  EACH  WOODS  OF  BOLIVIA 

An  Unexplored  Country  of  vast  Resources  given  up  to  Savage  Tribes 
— The  Cannibals  of  the  Eastern  Andes,  who  Shoot  with  Blow- 
Guns  and  Poisoned  Arrows — Some  Indians  who  go  Naked,  and 
Others  who  Dress  in  Bark  Clothing  — The  Rubber  Forests  of  the 
Andean  Slope  — Quinine  arid  Peruvian  Bark.  ..... 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A WILD  RIDE  WITH  THE  BOLIVIAN  MAILS 

A Gallop  over  the  dried-up  Sea  of  the  Middle  Andes  — Strange  Scenes 
on  the  Highlands  — The  Bolivian  Coachman,  and  his  Cruelty 
— Nights  in  Bolivian  Inns  — Odd  Features  of  Farming,  where 
Oxen  pull  the  Ploughs  with  their  Heads  — American  Trade  in 
Bolivia.  ............. 


CONTENTS 


I I 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AMONG  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINES  OF  THE  ANDES 

PAGE 

Bolivia’s  enormous  Silver  Output  — It  has  produced  $4,000,000,000  worth 
of  the  Metal  — The  Silver  Mountain  of  Potosi  and  the  rich 
Mines  of  Cerro  de  Pasco  — The  Gold  Mines  of  Eastern  Bolivia 
— The  Tipuani  Placer  Deposits  now  being  Worked  by  Ameri- 
cans— Prospecting  in  the  Andes — The  richest  Tin  Mines  in  the 
World 177 


CHAPTER  XX 

A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS 

The  Nitrate  Deserts  of  Chile,  in  which  the  English  have  Invested 
$100,000,000 — How  Nitrate  of  Soda  is  Mined  — A Visit  to  the 
Fields  — The  Extent  of  the  Deposits,  and  the  Peculiarities  of  the 
Nitrate  Towns  — A Look  at  Ascotan,  the  Borax  Lake  of  the 
Andes  — Six  Hundred  Miles  by  Rail  over  Salty  Plains.  . . . 184 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AMONG  THE  CHILENOS 

The  Yankees  of  South  America,  and  their  Country  — Odd  Features  of 
the  Slimmest  Land  in  the  World  — Its  Wonderful  Riches — Its  Vast 
Deposits  of  Guano,  Gold,  Silver,  and  Copper  — Valparaiso,  the  New 
York  of  the  Southern  Pacific.  .......  192 

CHAPTER  XXII 

ON  ROBINSON  CRUSOE'S  ISLAND 

The  Scene  of  Alexander  Selkirk’s  adventures  — The  Island  of  Juan  Fer- 
nandez, and  how  the  Chilean  Government  proposes  to  Colonize 
it  — The  Guano  Islands,  out  of  which  Peru  has  dug  Millions  — 

What  Guano  is  — The  Galapagos  Islands,  and  the  Robinson 
Crusoe  of  Ecuador.  ..........  203 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  CITY  OF  SANTIAGO 

Special  Features  of  Life  and  Business  in  the  Chilean  Capital  — A Bird’s- 
Eye  view  from  Santa  Lucia  — Palaces  that  cover  Acres  and 
cost  Fortunes  — A Street-Car  Ride  for  a Cent  — High  Life  among 
the  Chilenos  — Paris  Dresses  and  Diamonds — How  the  Nabobs 
enjoy  themselves  — Scenes  at  the  Opera  and  the  Races. 


215 


12 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CHILE 

PAGE 

A Visit  to  the  Chilean  « White  House  » — The  President  and  Congress  — 

How  Chile  is  Governed  — The  Influence  of  the  Church,  and  its 
great  Wealth — Its  vast  Ecclesiastical  Property  in  Santiago,  and 
its  rich  Nuns  and  Monks  — Education  in  Chile,  and  the  Ameri- 
can Schools.  ............  224 

CHAPTER  XXV 

FARMING  ON  A GRAND  SCALE 

A Land  where  a Thousand  Acres  are  only  a Garden-patch,  and  many 
Farms  are  worth  Millions  — Special  Features  of  Life  on  the  Ha- 
ciendas— Peons  who  Work  for  Twenty  Cents  a Day  and  get 
Drunk  every  Week  — Their  extraordinary  Strength  and  the  great 
Mortality  among  them— A Visit  to  an  immense  Estate  managed 
by  a Woman  — The  Wheat  Lands  of  Chile  — Its  Fine  Cattle  and 
Horses 231 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

LIFE  ON  THE  CHILEAN  FRONTIER 

How  the  Southern  Part  of  the  Country  is  being  opened  up  to  Settle- 
ment — Government  Auctions,  where  Land  is  sold  in  lots  of 
Thousands  of  Acres  — A Look  at  the  frontier  City  of  Temuco, 
and  something  about  Concepcion,  the  Metropolis  of  the  South  — 

The  Chances  for  Investment  — Big  Farms  at  low  Prices — Valua- 
ble Mines  — A Journey  into  the  Coal  Mines  under  the  Pacific 
Ocean  on  an  Electric  Trolley 243 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  ARAUCANIAN  INDIANS 

Odd  Features  of  Life  among  the  Richest  and  Bravest  of  the  South 
American  Indians  — A Visit  to  their  Reservations  in  South  Chile 
— Pretty  Indian  Maidens  — How  they  are  Courted  and  Married  — 
Curious  Customs  of  Birth  and  Death  — The  Araucanian  Religion  — 

An  Araucanian  Woman,  who  claims  to  be  130  Years  Old.  . . 249 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 

A Trip  through  Smyth’s  Channel  into  the  Strait  of  Magellan  — Sailing 
amidst  the  Clouds  among  Icebergs  and  Andean  Snows  — A Look 


CONTENTS 


J3 


at  Cape  Froward,  the  southernmost  Continental  Point  in  the 
World  — The  Savages  of  Patagonia  — The  naked  Alacalufes,  who 
live  in  Canoes  — Lassoing  an  Iceberg  — A Description  of  the 
Strait  and  its  magnificent  Scenery 2 59 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

IN  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  MAGELLANS 

How  the  People  live  and  do  Business  in  the  most  Southerly  City  in 
the  World  — Lots  which  formerly  Cost  a Postage  Stamp  now 
worth  Thousands  of  Dollars — The  Big  Sheep  Farms  of  Patagonia 
and  Tierra  del  Fuego,  some  of  which  Feed  Flocks  of  Tens  of 
Thousands  and  make  Fortunes  for  their  Owners  — Vultures  that 
pick  out  the  Eyes  of  Live  Sheep  — The  Panthers  and  the  Indian 
Sheep-Stealers 271 


CHAPTER  XXX 

TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 

New  Facts  about  one  of  the  least-known  parts  of  the  World  — An 
Island  covered  with  a Dense  Vegetation,  having  Mighty  Forests 
and  Grass-Grown  Plains  — Where  the  Gold  Mines'  are  Located,  and 
how  Nuggets  and  Scales  of  Gold  are  Picked  out  of  the  Sands  of 
the  Sea  — The  Indians  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  — The  Onas,  who  go 
Naked,  Sleep  in  Holes  in  the  Ground,  and  Wage  War  upon  the 
Whites  — The  Yaghans,  who  are  Semi-Civilized  — Their  Wonderful 
Language.  ............  278 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 

John  Bull’s  new  Naval  Station  in  the  South  Atlantic  — It  Controls  Cape 
Horn  and  the  Strait  of  Magellan  — Where  the  Falklands  Are  — 

Their  Vast  Sheep  Farms,  which  are  Managed  by  Shepherds  on 
Horseback  — A Visit  to  Stanley,  the  Capital  — Travelling  School- 
masters— Postal  Savings  Banks  and  other  Features  of  the  thrift- 
iest Island  Community  in  the  World.  ......  285 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC 

A Bird’s-Eye  View  of  the  Country — Its  Vast  Wheat-Fields,  Sugar 
Plantations,  and  Extensive  Pastures  — How  it  Compares  with  the 
United  States  — Its  People,  and  their  Characteristics  — The  Latin- 
American  as  a National  Type  — How  Argentina  is  Growing — Its 
Railroads  and  Telegraphs  — Its  Normal  Schools,  founded  by 
Yankee  School-Teachers.  .........  294 


14 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

BUENOS  AIRES 

PAGE 

The  Metropolis  of  South  America,  and  the  largest  Spanish-speaking 
City  in  the  World — How  it  Contro’s  Argentina  Politically,  Socially, 
and  Financially — Buenos  Aires  from  the  Housetops  — A Town  of 
Shreds  and  Patches  — A Look  at  its  Churches  — The  Largest 
Catholic  City  on  Earth  — A South  American  Botany  Bay.  . . 305 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 

How  the  Nabobs  of  Buenos  Aires  look,  act,  and  live  — A Nation  of 
Gamblers,  who  spend  Millions  a Year  on  Races,  Lotteries,  and 
the  Stock-Exchange  — Behind  the  Scenes  at  the  Clubs  — A Night 
at  the  Opera  — Well-Dressed  Women  and  Impudent  Young  Men  — 
Curious  Customs  of  Courtship  and  Marriage  — Odd  Features  of 
Family  Life.  ............  316 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

LO  IV  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 

How  the  Poor  Live  — The  Conventillos  of  Buenos  Aires,  and  their 
Miserable  Inhabitants — Work,  Wages,  and  Trades  Unions  — The 
Chances  for  Women  — Strange  Ways  of  Washing  and  Ironing  — 
Among  the  Gauchos  or  Cowboys  of  the  Pampas- — A Peep  into 
their  Homes  — Their  Terrible  Duels — - (<  I Feel  like  killing  Some 
One.» 327 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

ODD  ARGENTINE  CUSTOMS 

The  Hospitality  of  the  People  — Presents  with  Strings  to  Them  — The 
Cemeteries  and  Funeral  Customs  — How  the  Dead  are  filed  away 
in  Pigeon-Holes  — Rented  Graves  — Curious  Gastronomic  Tastes  — 

Snails  and  Armadillos  as  Tidbits  — The  Greatest  Meat-Eaters  in 
the  World  — How  Turkeys  are  Sold  — Milkmen  who  cannot  Water 
their  Milk 336 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 

Where  they  are,  and  What  they  are  — Plow  the  Grain  is  Raised 
and  Marketed  — The  Wheat  Farmers  are  Italians,  who  live 


CONTENTS 


r5 


in  Mud  Huts  — Rosario,  the  Chicago  of  South  America  — The 
Locusts  that  come  from  Brazil  in  Swarms  and  eat  up  the  Wheat 
and  everything  Green  — How  they  are  Destroyed  — The  Future 
of  Wheat-Raising  in  South  America,  and  its  probable  Competition 
with  the  United  States.  ......... 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

SHEEP  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 

Argentina  has  more  than  100,000,000  Sheep,  and  produces  a Hundred 
Pounds  of  Wool  to  each  of  its  Inhabitants  — A Look  into  the 
greatest  Produce  Market  in  the  World  — How  Argentina  is  improv- 
ing her  Cattle  and  Sheep  — A Ram  which  Cost  $2,000,  and  Bulls 
at  $5,000  Each  — A Visit  to  the  largest  Meat-Freezing  Establish- 
ment in  the  World.  ..........  350 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 

HOW  THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  IS  GOVERNED 

Its  President  and  Congress  — Elections  held  on  Sundays  in  the  Churches 
— Everything  in  the  hands  of  Rings  — Politicians  who  steal  Mil- 
lions— The  Frauds  of  the  National  Banks  — The  Judicial  System 
and  the  Police  — The  Army  and  Navy.  ......  358 


PAGE 


342 


CHAPTER  XL 

ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  THE  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD 

Concerning  the  Trans-Andean  Railroad,  which  crosses  Chile  and  Argen- 
tina— How  the  Track  climbs  the  Andes  — Snow-Sheds  cut  out  of 
solid  Rock,  and  other  curious  Features  of  Railroad-Building — 
Groceries  on  Wheels,  and  Freight  Cars  with  Sails  — A Look  at 
Aconcagua,  the  highest  of  the  Andes  — Singular  Features  of  Na- 
ture on  the  Pampas,  where  it  sometimes  Rains  Mud.  . . . 360 

CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  ARGENTINA 

What  should  be  Done  to  Better  our  Trade  — We  need  American 
Steamers  and  an  International  American  Bank  — How  the  English 
are  making  Money  in  South  American  Banking  — Stock  Specula- 
tion in  Buenos  Aires  — A Day  on  the  Exchange  — Opportunities 
for  Investments - 3S2 


i6 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XLII 

UP  THE  PARAGUAY  RIVER 

PAGE 

A Thirteen-Hundred-Mile  Trip  on  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  system  into  the 
Heart  of  South  America — How  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  surpasses 
the  Mississippi  — The  Parana  River,  and  its  Ten  Thousand  Islands, 
which  are  floating  down  to  the  Sea  — Strange  Sights  on  the 
Paraguay  River  — Monkeys,  Parrots,  Jaguars,  and  Crocodiles — Life 
on  the  River  Steamers — Peculiar  Table  Manners.  ....  389 

CHAPTER  XLIII 

IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 

A Walk  through  the  Capital  of  Paraguay- — A Town  older  than  any  in 
North  America,  but  still  new  — Its  Telephones  and  Telephone 
Girls  — A General  View  of  Paraguay— Its  Cities,  Towns,  and  Vil- 
lages—Its  Queer  Colonies,  one  of  which  was  named  after  Presi- 
dent Hayes.  ............  399 

CHAPTER  XLIV 

THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY 

Strange  Customs  of  a Land  where  there  are  more  Women  than  Men  — 

The  War  with  Brazil,  that  Killed  off  the  Men  — How  the  Women 
Manage  the  Country  — Their  Business  Ability  — A Visit  to  the 
Markets  — Orange  Girls  and  Butcher  Women  — A Look  into  a 
Paraguayan  Home  — Paraguay  Tobacco,  used  by  Women  and 
Children  who  both  Smoke  and  Chew.  ......  409 

CHAPTER  XLV 

INDUSTRIAL  PARAGUAY 

Its  Resources  and  Possibilities  — A Land  of  vast  Pastures  and  many 
Cattle — Its  Dense  Forests  of  valuable  hard  Woods- — Its  Tobacco 
and  Cotton  Fields  — Low  Prices  of  Land  — The  Chances  for  Ameri- 
cans and  American  Trade 4*8 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

ROUND  ABOUT  PIRAPO 

Strange  Adventures  in  the  Wilds  of  Paraguay  — A Night  in  a Country 
Hotel — Paraguay’s  only  Railroad,  and  its  odd  Passengers — How 
Women  Peddle  raw  Meat  at  the  Stations  — Country  Scenes  — Tens 
of  Thousands  of  Ant-hills  — A Land  where  Oranges  grow  wild  — 
Odd  Features  of  Life  outside  the  Cities.  ...... 


428 


CONTENTS 


17 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL 

PAGE 

The  Trip  up  the  Paraguay  into  the  Province  of  Matto  Grosso  — A Look 
at  Cuyaba  — A Stop  at  Corumba  — Tigers  and  Alligators — Savage 
Indians  who  are  Born  without  Hair  and  Grow  Hair  only  on  the 
Head  — Something  about  the  Chaco  and  its  Curious  Tribes  — The 
Tobas,  Lenguas,  and  others.  ........  439 

CHAPTER  XLVII  I 

IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OF  URUGUAY 

A Bird's-Eye  View  of  the  smallest  of  the  South  American  Republics  — 

The  richest  Land  south  of  the  Equator  — A Look  at  Montevideo 
and  its  beautiful  Harbour  — Its  Public  Buildings,  its  Theatres, 

Banks,  and  Stock-Exchange  — How  Uruguay  is  Governed  — Its 
Post  Offices,  Telephones,  Telegraphs,  and  Schools  — Strange  Street 
Scenes 454 

CHAPTER  XLIX 

THE  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 

He  lives  upon  a Political  Volcano  and  is  always  in  Danger  of  Assassi- 
nation — A Land  of  Revolutions  — An  Evening  at  the  « White  House  » 
of  Montevideo  guarded  by  Gatling  guns  on  the  Roof — High  Life 
in  the  Uruguayan  Capital  — Queer  Customs  of  Courtship  and  Mar- 
riage— How  the  young  Men  play  the  Dragon,  and  why  there  are 
no  Breach-of- Promise  Suits.  ........  465 

CHAPTER  L 

THE  BABY  REPUBLIC  OF  BRAZIL 

The  Portuguese  half  of  South  America  — An  enormous  Country  of  Vast 
Resources  — Travels  through  West  Deutschland  — Thriving  Cities 
and  vast  Pastures  owned  by  Germans — A Visit  to  the  Death 
Harbour  of  Santos  — How  Coffee  is  loaded  for  America  — Up  the 
Mountains  to  Sao  Paulo,  the  great  Coffee  Metropolis.  . . .481 

CHAPTER  LI 

A VISIT  TO  THE  LARGEST  COFFEE  PLANTATION 

An  Estate  which  has  5,000,000  Coffee  Trees,  and  is  Forty  Miles  around 
— How  the  Soil  looks,  and  how  the  Coffee  Trees  are  grown — ■ 
Picking  Coffee,  and  preparing  it  for  the  Market  — A Ride  over 
the  Plantation  on  its  Railroad  — Its  Italian  Colonies,  and  how  they 
are  Managed  — Among  the  Pretty  Coffee-sorters. 


493 


i8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  LII 

MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 

PAGE 

Brazil,  the  chief  Coffee-country  of  the  World  — It  Produces  two-thirds 
of  all  the  Coffee  used  by  Man  — Where  the  Coffee-fields  are,  and 
how  the  -Product  is  handled  at  Rio  and  Santos — The  Kinds  of 
Coffee,  and  why  our  Mocha  and  Java  Coffees  come  from  Brazil  — 
Behind  the  Scenes  in  the  Warehouses  — How  the  Beans  are  Pol- 
ished and  Painted  up  for  the  Market — Coffee  Detectives  and 
Coffee  Thieves.  ...........  5°° 


CHAPTER  LIII 

IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 

The  largest  Portuguese  city  in  the  World — A Look  at  the  Harbour  of 
Rio,  and  a Visit  to  its  Botanical  Gardens  — A Walk  on  the  Ouvi- 
dor  — Strange  Street  Scenes  — Auctions  and  Lotteries — A Visit  to 
the  Markets  — Life  in  the  Restaurants  and  Cafes  — What  Good 
Coffee  is  — A nervous  Nation,  always  on  the  Twitch.  . . . 508 


CHAPTER  LIV 

IN  THE  SWITZERLAND  OF  BRAZIL 

Petropolis,  the  Summer  Resort  of  the  Capital  — A Trip  up  the  Organ 
Mountains  on  a Cog  Railroad  — Where  our  Minister  lives,  and 
where  Dom  Pedro  had  his  Palaces — An  American  College  for  Girls 
— Woman’s  Rights  in  Brazil,  and  some  Peculiarities  of  Brazilian 
Women 523 


CHAPTER  LV 

BAHIA , AND  THE  DIAMOND  MINES 

How  the  Precious  Stones  are  Dug  out  of  the  Rivers  of  Brazil  — Mined 
by  Native  Indians,  who  Dive  for  the  Diamond  Gravel  — Concerning 
the  Carbons,  or  Black  Diamonds,  found  near  Bahia — The  Gold 
Mines  of  Minas  Geraes,  and  the  new  Gold  Regions  of  Northern 
Brazil  — The  old  City  of  Bahia,  once  the  Brazilian  Capital  — Its 
200,000  People,  most  of  whom  are  Coloured  — American  Gold  Dol- 
lars as  Vest  Buttons.  ..........  535 


CONTENTS 


J9 


CHAPTER  LVI 

UP  THE  COAST  OF  BRAZIL 

PAGE 

Peculiar  Features  of  life  on  a Brazilian  Steamer  — The  city  of  Pernam- 
buco, and  its  wonderful  Reef  — A great  Cotton  Country  — Brazil’s 
new  Cotton  Factories,  and  their  enormous  Profits  — A visit  to 
Ceara  and  its  Capital,  Forteleza  — Terrible  Famines — The  Car- 
nauba  Palm,  which  Houses,  Feeds,  and  Lights  the  People.  . . 54§ 

CHAPTER  LVI  I 

ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 

Travelling  on  an  Ocean  Steamer  up  the  greatest  Valley  in  the  World  — 

The  wonderful  size  of  the  Amazon  — Its  many  Tributaries,  and 
its  floating  Islands  — Steaming  through  the  Delta  — Flow  the  River 
looks  a Thousand  Miles  from  the  Sea  — Sketches  of  the  People 
and  their  Homes  — The  Floods  in  the  Amazon  Basin,  the  Rain- 
iest part  of  the  World  — The  Cacao  Plantation,  and  how  Chocolate 
is  Raised.  ............  561 

CHAPTER  LVIII 

THE  GREAT  CITIES  OF  THE  AMAZON 

Some  features  of  Para  and  Manaos,  which  control  the  Trade  of  the 
Valley  — High  and  Low  Life  at  the  Amazon’s  Mouth  — Manaos, 
the  Metropolis  of  the  Rio  Negro  — An  Ocean  Port  a Thousand 
Miles  from  the  Atlantic  — A town  of  Electric  Railroads,  Telephones, 
and  Charitable  Institutions — Iquitos,  on  the  Peruvian  Amazon,  a 
Steamship  Port  2,300  miles  inland.  .......  572 

CHAPTER  LIX 

IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS 

A visit  to  the  Rubber  forests,  and  a description  of  how  the  Trees  are 
tapped  for  the  Markets  — How  Rubber  is  made — Who  owns  the 
Trees — Something  about  the  Rubber  Slaves  of  the  Upper  Amazon 
— The  Cost  of  Rubber,  and  how  I made  an  ounce  at  a cost  of  $100.  583 

CHAPTER  LX 

BRAZIL  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES 

Chances  for  American  Capital  — The  Banks,  and  their  enormous  Profits 
— Railroads  that  Pay  — Cold-Storage  Plants  — Steamship  Compa- 
nies that  discriminate  against  our  Trade. 


594 


20 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  LXI 

IN  THE  GUI  AN  AS 

PAGE 

Where  the  Guianas  are,  and  what  they  are  — Their  wild  Lands,  and 
their  savage  Indians  and  bush  Negroes  — British  Guiana,  and  its 
mixed  Population  — A land  of  Hindus,  Chinese,  and  Negroes  — The 
rich  Sugar  plantations,  and  how  they  are  Managed  — Dutch  Guiana, 
the  little  Holland  of  South  America  — French  Guiana,  and  its  Penal 
Colony  — A look  at  Georgetown,  Paramaribo,  and  Cayenne.  . . 603 

CHAPTER  LXII 

VENEZUELA , AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN 

An  Enormous  Country  of  great  Possibilities — How  Named  — Its  Sugar 
lands  and  Cacao  Orchards  — Its  Coffee,  which  we  drink  as  Mocha 
— The  Orinoco,  and  its  vast  Pastures  — How  the  Llanos  look  — 

The  Gold  regions  — On  Lake  Maracaibo — In  Caracas,  the  National 
Capital.  . . . . 610 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Pretty  Girls  of  Chile  ( Frontispiece ) 

Avenue  of  Palms,  Colon  (Aspinwall), 

Colombia 26 

Panama  Cathedral 31 

Wash-day  on  the  Panama  Isthmus 36 

Fruit  Market  at  Panama 39 

Route  of  the  Panama  Isthmian  Canal  . 41 

Excavating  for  the  Panama  Canal 43 

Dredging  Machine  at  work  on  the  Pan- 
ama Canal 45 

The  Eastern  End  of  the  Panama  Canal  48 

Guayaquil,  Ecuador 59 

Indians  who  Cure  and  Trade  in  Human 

Heads 73 

A Field  of  Sugar  Cane 83 

The  (<  White  House,®  Lima,  Peru 89 

Nicolas  de  Pierola,  President  of  Peru  ...  90 

Lima,  Peru,  showing  Cathedral 97 

Church  of  the  Mercedes,  Lima,  Peru  . . 102 

A Lima  Belle 104 

Church  of  San  Domingo,  Lima 105 

Down  the  Andes  of  Peru  on  a Hand- 

Car no 

Railway  Viaduct  in  the  Andes  of  Peru. . 116 

Snowfields  around  Aconcagua 123 

Arequipa,  Peru 126 

A Street  in  Arequipa 127 

Great  Telescope  in  Arequipa  Observa- 
tory  132 

Cholo  Girl,  La  Pa2  ) j .. 

The  Vicuna  ' 

Aymard  Hut  and  Family 153 

Pachita  (Peru)  Indian 164 

La  Paz  Indians ...  167 

A Typical  Forest  View 169 

Bolivian  Llamas 176 

Chilean  Types 193 

Valparaiso,  Chile 198 

Island  of  Juan  Fernandez 202 

Coast  Scene,  Juan  Fernandez 205 

Alexander  Selkirk’s  Monument 209 

The  Alamedo  (Public  Walk)  Santiago  . 212 

S.  A.— 2 


PAGE 


Arcade  in  Santiago,  Chile 213 

Vegetable  Seller,  Santiago,  Chile 219 

Interior  of  Santiago  Cathedral 223 

President  Errazuriz  of  Chile 225 

Archbishop  of  Santiago 227 

Round-up  of  Cattle 230 

Arrival  of  Visitors  at  a Farm  : (<Every 

Child  has  his  Pony® 234 

Owner  and  Chiefs  of  Haciendo 234 

The  Niagara  of  Chile 242 

An  Auraucanian  Woman 254 

Savage  Womanhood  of  the  Strait  of 

Magellan 267 

Indians  of  Patagonia 272 

An  Onas  Family — Tierra  del  Fuego. . . . 282 

Penguins  in  the  Falkland  Islands 286 

Argentine  Maidens 299 

Entrance  to  Dock  No.  1 (Buenos  Aires)  302 

Bird’s  Eye  View  of  Buenos  Aires 306 

Buenos  Aires — Rendena  Street 307 

An  Avenue  in  Buenos  Aires 310 

The  Cathedral  of  Buenos  Aires 313 

Plaza  de  Mayo 314 

Palm  Avenue,  Palermo 317 

Argentine  Lady  and  Her  Children 320 

Bread- Vendor 330 

Buenos  Aires — Washing  Clothes  on  the 

Beach 332 

Gaucho  and  His  Florse — Argentina....  333 
Social  Gathering,  Argentine  Farm  House  343 

Argentina  Farm  House 346 

Flock  of  Sheep  in  the  Argentines 351 

In  the  World’s  Biggest  Wool  Market. . . 355 
General  Julio  A.  Roca,  President  Argen- 
tine Republic 359 

Argentine  Troops  of  the  Line 366 

On  the  Trans-Andean  Railroad 368 

Upsallata  Pass  — Stone  ldouses  built  to 
protect  Mail-Carriers  when  overtaken 

by  Storms  in  the  Mountains 37 1 

The  Andes  — Coach-Road  from  Argen- 
tine to  Chile 373 


21 


22 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Frontiers  of  Argentina  and  Chile,  Sum- 
mit of  the  Andes 377 

Southern  Railroad  Depot — ((The  English 

own  the  Railroads” 3^° 

Buenos  Aires  Harbour — <l  There  is  a Big 
Chance  for  a Yankee  Steamship  Line”  383 

Stock-Exchange,  Buenos  Aires 387 

Asuncion,  Paraguay 390 

The  (<  Saturno  ” Steamer  on  the  Paranti 

River 392 

Indians  of  Paraguay 396 

Along  the  Banks  of  the  Paraguay 398 

The  Capital  of  Paraguay 400 

Country  Cart,  Paraguay 401 

Port  of  Asuncion,  Paraguay 402 

(<  The  Houses  are  of  Mud  and  Poles, 

thatched  ” 403 

The  Post  Office,  Asuncion 406 

View  on  the  Upper  Parallel,  Paraguay. . 408 

Paraguayan  Women 414 

A Paraguayan  Market-Place 416 

Indian,  North  Paraguay 420 

Wood-Cutting  in  Paraguay 423 

A Paraguayan  Tree 426 

Scene  on  the  Paraguayan  Railway 430 

Branding  Cattle,  Argentina 433 

Toba  Chief,  Paraguay 435 

Grand  Falls  of  the  Yguazu 438 

Hut  of  Cabadello,  Brazil 442 

Family  of  Uruguayans 443 

In  the  Woods  near  Bahia,  Brazil 445 

Cuyaba,  Brazil  448 

A View  in  the  Chaco,  Argentina 450 

City  of  Montevideo,  Uruguay 455 

The  Theatre  Solis,  Montevideo 459 

Cathedral  and  Plaza,  Montevideo 461 

Juan  L.  Cuestas,  President  of  Uruguay. . 466 

Montevideo,  Uruguay 468 

Avenue  of  Eucalyptus  Trees,  Montevideo  471 

Montevideon  Beauty 474 

Private  Gardens,  Montevideo,  Uruguay.  476 

Garden  in  Sao  Paulo 480 

Sao  Paulo,  Brazil 484 

One  of  Brazil’s  Normal  Schools 485 

Santos,  Brazil 487 

Railway  up  the  Coast  Mountains  from 

Santos 489 

A Coffee  Plantation 492 

Coffee  Tree  with  Berries 499 

Santos,  Brazil’s  great  Coffee  Port 501 


Picking  Coffee 503 

Loading  Coffee — Port  of  Santos 505 

Bamboo  Groves,  Botanic  Gardens 509 

The  Bay  of  Rio 512 

Palm  Alley,  Botanic  Gardens 513 

A Rio  Negress : 517 

A Banana  Plantation 520 

Post  Office,  Rio,  Brazil 521 

Petropolis,  Brazil 523 

Railway  Viaduct  near  Petropolis — <(  We 

go  over  Ravines” 524 

Uncle  Sam  in  Brazil  — Our  Legation  at 

Petropolis 526 

Girls’  School,  Petropolis,  Brazil 529 

Fern  Tree,  Brazil 533 

Brazilian  Negress 536 

Bahia,  Brazil 537 

Bahia,  Brazil,  from  the  Water  P'ront. . . . 541 

Washing  for  Diamonds,  Brazil 545 

A Brazilian  Ox-Cart 549 

A Pernambuco  Negro 550 

The  Reef,  Pernambuco,  Brazil 552 

Street  in  Pernambuco,  Brazil 556 

Venus  of  the  Upper  Andean  Amazon. . . 560 
Indian  Amazonas  in  Bark  Clothing....  563 

Vegetation  on  the  Amazon 565 

Amazonas  and  Alligator 569 

Boat  on  the  Amazon 570 

Wharf  at  Manaos,  1,000  Miles  up  the 

Amazon 573 

General  Store  at  Parti. 575 

Market  on  Wharf  at  Parti 576 

Fashionable  Residence  Street  in  Pari.. . 578 

The  Theatre,  Parti 580 

Rubber-Tree  Tapping,  with  Platchet  . . . 584 

Gathering  Sap  from  Rubber  Tree 587 

Rubber-Gatherers  on  the  Upper  Amazon  589 

Smoking  the  Rubber 591 

Ball  of  Rubber 592 

<(  The  Best  Paying  Railroad  in  South 

America  ” 597 

Native  of  Orinoco 604 

Harvesting  Sugar  Cane  near  Caracas  . . 606 

La  Guaira,  Venezuela 611 

Washington  Plaza,  Caracas,  Vene- 
zuela  612 

(<  All  things  are  carried  on  Donkeys  ” . 613 

Statue  of  Bolivar,  Caracas 615 

The  Capitol  at  Caracas 617 

Garden  in  Caracas 618 


CHAPTER  I 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  PANAMA 

A Winter  Sail  over  the  Caribbean  Sea  on  an  American  Steamer  — A New 
Use  for  the  Gulf  Stream  — Landing  at  Colon — Its  Hospitals  and 
its  Cemeteries — A Graveyard  of  Foreigners  — The  Terrors  of  the 
Isthmus. 

am  in  the  city  of  Colon,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Isth- 
mus of  Panama.  The  emerald  waves  of  the  Caribbean 
Sea,  coming  in  with  the  tide,  are  dashing  up  a silvery 
spray  at  my  feet.  A row  of  tall  palms  runs  between  me  and 
the  beach,  each  tree  loaded  with  bunches  of  green  cocoanuts, 
every  one  of  which  is  as  big  as  the  head  of  that  naked  negro 
baby  who  is  playing  there  on  the  edge  of  the  water. 

The  air  a little  back  from  the  shore  is  that  of  a hot  July  at 
home,  but  here  there  comes  in  from  the  sea  a breeze  which  is 
soft,  cool,  and  delicious.  When  I left  New  York  a week  ago,  I 
had  to  wade  through  the  snow  to  the  steamer;  here  my  sur- 
roundings are  those  of  midsummer.  I am  in  a land  of  the 
tropics. 

The  distance  from  New  York  to  Colon  is  2,000  miles,  and  the 
trip  took  just  seven  days.  Our  steamer  was  the  Advance , one  of 
the  three  boats  of  the  Panama  Railroad  and  Steamship  Com- 
pany, the  only  line  which  plies  regularly  between  New  York  and 
the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  It  was  a steady  little  vessel  of  2,700 
tons,  only  about  one-fourth  the  size  of  the  great  ocean  grey- 
hounds of  the  Atlantic;  but  it  had  all  the  modern  improvements, 
and  my  corner  cabin  on  the  promenade  deck  had  two  large  win- 
dows, which  gave  me  a cool  breeze  day  and  night. 

We  had  the  satisfaction  of  sailing  under  the  American  flag. 
Although  the  Panama  Railroad  and  Steamship  Company  practic- 
ally belongs  to  the  French,  it  is  managed  and  officered  by  Amer- 
icans, and  on  the  Advance  even  the  sailors  were  full-blooded 
Yankees.  Most  of  the  passengers  were  citizens  of  the  United 

(23) 


24  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

States;  some  on  a pleasure  trip  to  San  Francisco  via  the  Isth- 
mus, others  en  route  for  the  gold  mines  of  Peru  and  Bolivia, 
others  again  were  commercial  travellers  starting  out  to  buy  goods 
and  take  orders  in  South  America.  We  had  also  on  board  a 
bishop  and  a party  of  missionaries  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church.  The  missionaries  were  to  be  teachers  in  the  schools  of 
Chile  and  Peru,  while  the  bishop  was  on  a tour  of  mission  in- 
spection. In  addition  to  these,  there  were  some  Frenchmen,  Ger- 
mans, and  Spaniards.  The  Frenchmen  were  Parisians  about  to 
inspect  the  work  of  the  Panama  Canal.  The  Germans  were 
coffee-planters  from  Guatemala  returning  home  from  their  vaca- 
tions in  Europe ; and  the  Spaniards  were  business  men  engaged 
in  the  Pacific  coast  trade. 

The  party  was  a pleasant  one,  and  the  life  of  it  was  the 
bishop.  He  was  a mine  of  humour,  stories,  and  valuable  informa- 
tion. It  was  he  who,  as  we  passed  Cape  Hatteras,  told  us  that 
we  were  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  that  wonderful  river  of  the  ocean 
which  carries  the  hot  water  of  the  tropics  across  the  Atlantic  to 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and  makes  them  habitable.  As  we 
crossed  the  stream,  the  bishop  recalled  the  story  of  the  Yankee 
sea  captain  who,  when  denouncing  England  for  its  sympathy 
with  the  South  during  our  Civil  War,  said: 

(<  You  English  had  better  look  out,  for  Uncle  Sam  has  you  at  his 
mercy.  If  you  are  not  careful,  President  Lincoln,  when  he  has  set- 
tled this  trouble  with  the  South,  will  send  down  our  army  and  cut  a 
channel  through  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  which  will  turn  the  Gulf 
Stream  into  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  thus  freeze  your  two  little  islands 
into  icebergs.” 

It  was  also  the  bishop  who  sprang  this  riddle  upon  the  ship’s 
party:  w Who  was  the  lonesomest  scholar  in  the  geography  class  ? 
The  answer  was:  M The  little  girl  who  could  not  find  Pa-nor-Ma” 
(Panama). 

As  we  crossed  the  Gulf  Stream  the  air  grew  perceptibly  warmer, 
and  as  we  sailed  on  its  outer  edge  down  toward  the  Caribbean 
Sea  we  soon  came  into  summer  heat.  We  passed  the  island  of 
San  Salvador,  where  Columbus  first  landed  after  his  thirty-five 
days’  voyage  from  Spain,  in  a vessel  which  was  not  more  than 
one-thirtieth  as  large  as  ours.  The  morning  following  we  saw 
the  lighthouse  of  Bird  Rock  Island,  one  of  the  Bahamas,  rising 


■ 


AVENUE  OF  PALMS,  COLON  (ASPINWALL).  COLOMBIA 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  PANAMA 


27 


out  of  a grove  of  palm  trees;  and  a day  later  the  bleak  hills  of 
eastern  Cuba  came  into  view.  We  steamed  over  the  waters  where 
our  gunboats  lay  off  Santiago  when  they  sunk  the  Spanish  fleet; 
we  sailed  for  hours  in  sight  of  the  blue  mountains  of  Haiti,  and 
then  passed  into  the  blue  Caribbean,  seeing  nothing  but  flying 
fish,  nautili,  and  gulls,  until  we  neared  the  Isthmus  of  Panama. 

I shall  never  forget  our  first  sight  of  the  Isthmus,  that  won- 
derful strip  of  earth  and  rock  which  blocks  the  commerce  of  the 
world  in  tying  the  continents  of  North  and  South  America  to- 
gether. At  first  there  was  only  a thin  hazy  line  of  blue  on  the 
western  horizon.  Then  the  blue  deepened;  low  hills  rose  out  of 
the  mist  and  piled  themselves  one  on  top  of  another;  little  islands 
floated  up  out  of  the  water  along  the  shore;  and  a little  later  we 
were  in  sight  of  the  low  houses  and  wharves  of  Colon,  the  great 
palm  trees  above  them  shaking  their  fan-like  leaves  and  appar- 
ently waving  a welcome  to  the  Isthmus  of  Panama. 

As  we  came  to  anchor,  a crowd  not  unlike  that  on  the  wharves 
of  New  Orleans  gathered  about  the  ship.  It  was  composed  of 
negroes  and  mulattoes,  in  all  stages  of  raggedness.  There  were 
a few  native  Colombians,  who  jabbered  at  us  in  Spanish ; and 
there  were  several  Americans  in  the  employ  of  the  steamship 
company;  but  the  rest  were  negroes  and  mulattoes  from  Jamaica. 
They  addressed  us  in  English  with  a cockney  accent,  and  offered 
their  services  as  guides  through  Colon. 

Colon  is  the  chief  city  on  the  Caribbean  side  of  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama.  It  is  at  the  terminus  of  the  railway  across  the  Isth- 
mus, on  the  site  of  old  Aspinwall.  The  town  was  rebuilt  at  the 
time  of  the  commencement  of  the  Panama  Canal,  with  the  idea 
that  it  would  become  a mighty  city  as  soon  as  the  canal  was  com- 
pleted. Many  of  its  houses  were  constructed  in  the  United  States 
and  brought  here  in  pieces.  Palaces  were  erected  for  Ferdinand 
de  Lesseps  and  his  son,  and  about  them  a city  was  laid  out  on 
a grand  scale.  An  iron  market-house,  large  enough  for  a town  of 
half  a million  inhabitants,  was  put  up,  and  along  the  wide  streets 
lines  of  cocoanut  trees  were  planted.  Then  began  the  work  of 
dredging  out  the  land  at  what  was  to  be  the  eastern  end  of  the 
huge  ditch  which  was  to  join  the  two  oceans.  Tens  of  thousands 
of  workmen  were  employed,  and  money  flowed  like  water. 

Such  was  the  condition  in  the  early  eighties.  To-day  Colon 
is  as  ragged  as  any  town  on  the  hemisphere.  Its  beautiful  cot- 


SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


tages,  weather-beaten  and  rotten,  are  falling  to  pieces.  Its  iron 
market-house  is  peppered  with  holes  eaten  by  rust,  and  the  palaces 
of  the  De  Lesseps  are  dilapidated.  Everything  about  it  is  the 
picture  of  ruin,  especially  at  the  mouth  of  the  canal,  where  tons 
of  cars,  dredges,  and  other  valuable  machinery  are  rotting  away. 

Colon  has  now  about  5,000  people,  made  up  largely  of  the 
remains  of  the  vast  number  who  came  to  work  on  the  canal. 
They  are  Jamaicans  and  Colombians,  with  a smattering  of  Chin- 
ese. The  town  has  some  business  as  the  terminus  of  the  rail- 
road, but  the  French  have  apparently  given  up  their  idea  that  it 
will  ever  be  a great  city.  Its  future  depends  entirely  upon  the 
completion  of  the  canal. 

Colon  is  notoriously  unhealthful.  I venture  to  think  there  is 
not  a man  living  in  it  to-day  who  has  not  been  afflicted  with 
fever,  and  it  is  significant  that  its  chief  sights  are  a fine  hospital 
and  a well-filled  cemetery  on  Monkey  Hill. 

This  part  of  the  Isthmus  is  in  fact  a veritable  graveyard  of 
foreigners.  The  excavations  for  the  canal  and  the  railroad  were 
made  through  the  miasmatic  swamps  of  the  Chagres  river,  where 
the  very  air  breathes  death.  It  is  said  that  there  was  a death 
for  every  cartload  of  earth  which  was  moved  in  making  the  ex- 
cavations. Away  back  in  the  fifties,  when  the  railroad  was  built, 
a regular  funeral  train  was  needed  to  carry  the  dead.  They 
were  buried  in  pits,  being  laid  crosswise,  one  on  top  of  the 
other,  and  stacked  up  as  it  were  like  cord- wood.  It  is  said  that 
during  the  construction  of  the  railroad,  there  were  more  deaths 
than  there  are  ties  in  its  track. 

Among  the  labourers  on  the  road  were  about  1,000  Chinese, 
who  were  imported  because  it  was  thought  they  could  stand  the 
climate.  Many  of  them  died  within  a month,  and  so  many  of 
the  remainder  committed  suicide  that  one  of  the  stations  at 
which  they  were  working  was  called  (<  Matachin,  ® or  Dead  China- 
man. 

Even  in  the  cpiiet  of  to-day,  when  Colon  is  more  healthful, 
the  air  is  full  of  reminiscences  of  the  fevers  and  horrors  of  the 
past.  The  terrors  of  the  region  have  even  gone  into  poetry,  as 
the  following,  written  by  an  American  in  the  employ  of  the 
Panama  Railway  Company,  will  testify: 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  PANAMA 


29 


BEYOND  THE  CHAGRES 

Beyond  the  Chagres  river 

Are  paths  that  lead  to  death ; 

To  fever’s  deadly  breezes  — 

To  malaria’s  poisonous  breath ! 
Beyond  the  tropic  foliage, 

Where  the  alligator  waits, 

Is  the  palace  of  the  devil  — 

His  original  estates. 

Beyond  the  Chagres  river 
Are  paths  fore’er  unknown, 

With  a spider  ’neath  each  pebble, 

A scorpion  ’neath  each  stone! 
’Tis  here  the  boa  constrictor 
His  fatal  banquet  holds, 

And  to  his  slimy  bosom 
His  hapless  victim  folds. 

Beyond  the  Chagres  river 

Lurks  the  panther  in  his  lair, 
And  ten  hundred  thousand  dangers 
Are  in  the  noxious  air. 

Behind  the  trembling  leaflets, 
Beneath  the  fallen  reeds, 

Are  the  ever-present  perils 

Of  a million  different  breeds. 

Beyond  the  Chagres  river, 

’Tis  said  — the  story’s  old  — 

Are  paths  that  lead  to  mountains 
Of  purest  virgin  gold ; 

But  ’tis  my  firm  conviction, 
Whatever  tales  they  tell. 

That  beyond  the  Chagres  river 
All  paths  lead  straight  to  hell ! 


CHAPTER  II 


ACROSS  THE  ISTHMUS  BY  RAILROAD 

The  Story  of  the  Panama  Railroad,  which  has  made  Fortunes  for  its 
Owners — It  Charges  the  Highest  Fares  and  Pays  Dividends  of 
Millions  — The  Scenery  of  the  Isthmus  — The  Chagres  River  — A 
Look  at  the  City  of  Panama  — Its  Odd  Social  Customs — Its  Lot- 
tery and  its  Bull-Ring. 

he  railroad  which  crosses  the  mountains  from  Colon  to 
the  city  of  Panama,  connecting  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific 
oceans,  is  perhaps  the  best-paying  railroad  in  the  world. 
It  has  made  fortunes  for  its  owners  in  the  past,  and  its  receipts 
are  still  far  in  excess  of  its  expenditure.  It  has  an  absolute 
monopoly  of  all  railroad  rights  on  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  and 
it  charges  accordingly.  What  would  be  thought  of  paying  $200 
for  a ride  from  New  York  to  Boston,  $450  for  a first-class  ticket 
from  New  York  to  Chicago,  $1,000  to  go  from  the  Atlantic  to 
Salt  Lake  City,  or  $1,500  to  be  carried  from  the  East  to  San 
Francisco?  Such  a rate  would  be  about  fifty  cents  per  mile,  or 
a trifle  less  than  what  the  Panama  Railway  Company  received 
for  every  passenger  it  carried  during  more  than  thirty  years. 

The  length  of  the  road  is  forty-seven  miles,  and  the  fare  until 
1889  was  twenty-five  dollars  in  gold.  At  present  all  through 
passengers  to  Panama  on  the  New  York  steamers  are  charged 
ten  dollars  in  gold  for  transportation  across  the  Isthmus.  The 
local  fare  from  Colon  to  Panama  is  four  dollars  in  gold,  but  the 
baggage  rate  is  three  cents  a pound,  and  only  fifteen  pounds  are 
allowed  free. 

The  Panama  Railroad  is  an  American  institution,  although 
now  owned  by  the  French,  the  majority  of  the  stock  having 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Panama  Canal  Company.  The  road 
was  built  by  Americans,  and  even  now  its  officials,  including  the 
ticket-agents,  conductors,  and  engineers,  come  from  the  United 
States.  It  is  through  its  concession  that  the  French  hold  their 
(30) 


PANAMA  CATHEDRAL 


ACROSS  THE  ISTHMUS  BY  RAILROAD 


33 


right  to  the  canal.  The  concession  was  granted  in  1850,  and  it 
includes  all  rights  of  way  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  a coun- 
try four  hundred  miles  long.  No  one  can  make  even  a waggon 
road  over  the  Isthmus  without  the  company’s  permission,  and  so 
far  no  other  road  of  any  kind  has  been  attempted. 

The  original  grant  gave  the  company  a large  amount  of  pub- 
lic land  along  the  line  of  the  track,  and  provided  that  Panama 
and  Colon  should  be  free  ports.  The  original  concession  was  for 
forty-nine  years,  but  it  has  since  been  extended  with  some  modi- 
fications to  ninety-nine  years,  during  which  the  company  must 
pay  $250,000  annually  to  the  Colombian  government. 

The  Panama  Railroad  is  a monument  to  American  skill  and 
energy.  The  difficulties  in  building  it  cannot  be  adequately  de- 
scribed. It  took  five  years  to  construct  it,  and  it  had  to  be  cut 
through  one  of  the  most  miasmatic  of  tropical  wildernesses.  Be- 
ginning with  Colon,  the  road  runs  through  the  swamps,  up  the 
valley  of  the  Chagres,  crossing  the  mountains  at  an  elevation  of 
268  feet,  and  then  going  down  to  the  Pacific  at  Panama  through 
the  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande  river.  It  is  only  forty-seven  miles 
long,  and  yet  it  cost  more  than  $8,000,000. 

It  was  begun  when  the  California  gold  excitement  was  at  its 
height,  and  was  able  to  earn  money  as  soon  as  the  first  few 
miles  of  track  were  laid.  The  travel  was  so  .great  that,  when 
the  road  was  formally  opened  in  1855,  it  had  already  received 
more  than  $2,000,000  for  transportation;  and  within  four  years 
thereafter,  its  earnings  amounted  to  more  than  its  original  cost. 
It  has  carried  as  much  as  500,000  tons  of  freight  in  a year;  and 
during  the  twelve  years  following  its  completion,  $750,000,000 
worth  of  specie  was  taken  over  the  road  on  its  way  from  San 
Francisco  to  New  York.  The  freight  rates  were  especially  heavy, 
averaging  about  $160  per  ton,  and  the  miners  were  made  to  pay 
an  extra-baggage  rate  on  their  outfits,  in  addition  to  their  $25 
fare. 

I crossed  the  Isthmus  in  a special  car  in  company  with  the 
superintendent  of  the  road.  The  roadbed  is  very  smooth,  and 
the  track  is  well  kept.  It  has  a five-foot  gauge,  fifty-six  pound 
rails,  and  ties  of  lignum-vitae,  which  are  about  the  only  ties  that 
will  withstand  the  wood-eating  ants.  Lignum-vitae  is  so  hard 
that  spikes  cannot  be  driven  into  it,  and  holes  have  to  be  bored 
for  every  bolt.  It  is  so  hard  that  the  ants,  which  eat  almost 


34 


SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


everything  wooden,  do  not  attack  it.  It  is  on  account  of  the 
ants  that  iron  telegraph  poles  are  used,  and  that  everything  else 
possible  is  made  of  iron. 

All  the  rolling  stock  of  the  Panama  road  comes  from  the 
United  States.  The  private  observation  car  of  the  superintendent 
was  made  in  Wilmington,  while  the  locomotives  are  from  Phila- 
delphia. The  cars  are  of  two  classes,  first  and  second.  The 
first-class  cars  have  wicker  seats,  like  those  of  our  smoking  cars. 
The  second-class  are  built  like  long  street  cars,  with  benches 
running  lengthwise  under  the  windows.  It  is  in  the  second-class 
cars  that  the  common  people  ride.  Half  of  their  passengers  are 
Jamaica  negroes,  about  one-third  of  the  remainder  are  Chinese, 
and  the  others  native  Colombians.  The  Chinese  are  the  neatest 
and  best  dressed  of  the  passengers. 

During  my  ride  over  the  road  I asked  the  superintendent  as 
to  wages.  He  told  me  that  they  varied  considerably,  the  Amer- 
icans being  paid  in  gold,  and  the  natives,  who  are  chiefly  com- 
mon labourers,  in  silver.  Engineers  get  $157  a month,  conductors 
$148,  and  telegraph  operators  from  $75  to  $100.  The  native 
brakemen  receive  $1.75  a day  in  silver,  or  about  sixty  cents  a 
day  in  gold.  Common  labourers  get  from  thirty-five  to  seventy- 
five  cents  silver  a day.  Most  of  the  latter  are  Jamaican  negroes. 
They  put  in  ten  hours  a day,  bringing  their  first  meal  of  coffee 
and  bread  to  the  track  and  eating  it  there.  They  begin  work  at 
six  a.  m.  At  eleven  o’clock  they  stop  for  breakfast,  which  con- 
sists of  rice  and  a bit  of  dried  meat.  At  one  o’clock  they  are 
again  at  work,  and  at  six  they  quit  and  go  home  to  dinner. 

The  ride  across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  is  a delightful  one. 
After  you  pass  the  few  miles  of  swamp  which  line  the  Atlantic 
coast,  the  land  rises  into  wooded  hills.  There  are  palm  trees 
here  and  there  amongst  the  other  forest  trees.  You  pass  banana 
plantations,  go  by  villages  of  thatched  huts,  about  which  half- 
naked  children  play;  and,  where  the  railroad  skirts  the  line  of 
the  canal,  see  on  every  prominent  hill  houses  which  were  erected 
for  the  petty  officials. 

A closer  look  at  the  vegetation  brings  new  wonders  at  every 
turn  of  the  road.  You  see  bread-fruit  trees,  cotton  trees,  and  at 
times  go  through  jungles  of  bamboo.  There  are  more  than 
twenty  varieties  of  bamboo  on  the  Isthmus,  and  many  kinds  of 
palms.  There  are  woods  which  equal  the  Siamese  teak  in  beauty 


t 


WASH-DAY  ON  THE  PANAMA  ISTHMUS 


ACROSS  THE  ISTHMUS  BY  RAILROAD 


37 


and  hardness,  and  back  from  the  railroad  are  forests  of  mahog- 
any and  dye-woods. 

Many  trees  and  plants  unknown  to  our  physicians  are  used 
by  the  Indians  for  medicinal  purposes.  One  of  these  is  the  ca- 
cique tree,  a stick  of  which,  if  held  in  the  hand,  will  almost 
instantly  stop  the  flowing  of  blood.  A bit  of  cacique  dust  put 
upon  a cut  will  cause  the  blood  to  stop  running;  so  the  Indians 
believe  it  to  be  an  infallible  cure  for  internal  hemorrhages.  Ca- 
cique wood  looks  much  like  mahogany.  It  is  costly,  a piece  as 
big  as  a walking-stick  being  worth  in  Panama  $10  or  more. 

Another  Isthmian  tree  is  an  antidote  for  snake  poisoning; 
and  there  are  plants  which  are  said  to  cure  cancers  and  tumors. 
One  plant  is  a powerful  emetic,  as  the  experience  of  an  English- 
man living  in  Panama  shows.  He  had  heard  of  this  plant  and 
wished  to  test  it.  So  he  asked  an  Indian  girl  to  make  some  tea 
of  its  leaves  for  himself  and  his  partner,  they  agreeing  that  each 
would  drink  a cupful.  They  did  so.  The  liquor  was  sweet  and 
was  easily  swallowed,  but  it  had  hardly  gone  down  before  both 
men  made  a rush  for  the  door.  Their  stomachs,  in  the  words  of 
the  Englishmen,  were  turned  inside  out,  and  they  seemed  to  feel 
their  very  heels  coming  up  through  their  throats. 

Panama,  the  Pacific  terminus  of  the  road,  is  a picturesque  lit- 
tle city  running  about  a magnificent  bay.  The  town  near  the 
bay  makes  one  think  of  Venice.  The  houses  hang  out  so  over 
the  water  that  you  involuntarily  look  for  gondolas  to  go  from 
one  to  another.  Away  from  the  bay  the  city  is  more  like  one  in 
old  Spain.  Its  streets  wind  in  and  out,  up  hill  and  down.  It  has 
a plaza  in  the  centre,  about  which  the  principal  buildings  stand. 
The  houses  are  built  close  to  the  narrow  sidewalks.  Many  of 
them  have  patios , or  courts,  within  them,  and  from  each  second 
story  a balcony  hangs  out,  so  that  you  are  protected  from  the 
sun  as  you  walk  through  the  city. 

Very  few  of  the  Panama  people  own  a whole  house.  Almost 
all  live  in  tenements,  the  richer  people  in  comfortable  rooms  on 
the  upper  floors,  and  the  poor  on  the  ground  floors  and  base- 
ments. All  the  stores  have  dwellings  above  them,  and  many 
well-to-do  people  live  above  stores.  The  doors  of  the  ground- 
floor  rooms  are  usually  open,  so  that  you  see  all  sorts  of  house- 
hold arrangements  going  on  as  you  pass  through  the  streets. 
Here  a woman  is  combing  her  hair,  there  one  is  sewing,  and 
S.  A. — 3 


38  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


a little  farther  on  a third  is  cutting  up  beef  for  the  breakfast 
stew. 

The  stores  are  not  large.  They  have  no  display  windows,  and 
the  goods  are  piled  up  in  them  without  regard  to  order  or  show. 
Most  of  the  trading  is  by  bargaining.  There  are  no  fixed  prices. 
You  offer  about  one-half  the  sum  the  merchant  asks  for  an 
article,  and  usually  get  it  for  about  two-thirds  of  his  first  price. 

I arrived  in  Panama  on  a Saturday  night,  and  had  a chance 
to  see  something  of  a Colombian  Sunday.  The  day  opened  with 
the  ringing  of  church  bells.  There  was  so  much  noise  that  I 
imagined  myself  in  one  of  the  most  pious  of  cities  until  I went 
into  the  streets.  Then  I found  that  the  stores  were  open,  and 
that  most  of  the  day  was  to  be  given  up  to  amusement  and 
business.  It  is  true  that  many  of  the  people  attended  church  in 
the  morning;  but  in  the  afternoon  they  devoted  themselves  to 
things  which  would  be  anything  but  Sunday-like  in  the  United 
States. 

At  two  o’clock,  for  instance,  there  was  a cock-fight,  and  at  four 
a bull-fight  began  inside  the  ruined  walls  of  one  of  the  churches 
of  Panama’s  past.  A large  audience  of  both  sexes  was  present, 
who  cheered  and  grew  wildly  excited  while  five  bulls  were  tor- 
tured to  death  by  a band  of  bull-fighters. 

At  one  o’clock  occurred  one  of  the  chief  events  of  the  day. 
This  was  the  weekly  drawing  of  the  Panama  lottery,  presided 
over  by  the  mayor.  The  lottery  is  so  well  patronized  that  all 
Panamanians  are  more  or  less  interested  in  it,  10,000  tickets  being 
sold  each  week.  The  tickets  are  a dollar  each,  and  the  prizes 
range  from  $3,000  downward.  There  are  so  many  blanks  that  the 
lottery  makes  a big  profit.  It  has  a capital  of  $200,000,  and  pays 
annual  dividends  of  45  per  cent. 

I happened  to  be  passing  the  lottery  office  at  the  time  of 
the  drawing,  and  stepped  in.  A boy  of  about  eight  years,  who 
had  been  picked  out  of  the  crowrd,  stood  upon  a table,  with  a 
revolving  wire  basket  before  him.  The  basket  was  filled  with 
hollow  ivory  balls,  each  of  which  contained  a number  ranging 
from  one  to  ten.  The  basket  was  given  a whirl,  and  was  then 
opened  for  the  boy  to  pick  out  a ball.  The  number  in  the  ball 
chosen  gave  the  figure  for  the  thousands  of  the  prize.  The 

basket  was  again  whirled,  and  another  ball  was  taken  out.  The 

number  in  this  represented  the  figure  for  the  hundreds;  a third 


ACROSS  THE  ISTHMUS  BY  RAILROAD 


39 


whirl  gave  the  tens,  and  the  fourth  the  units.  The  drawing 
seemed  to  be  fairly  done,  but  there  is  not  more  than  one  chance 
in  five  hundred  of  a ticket-holder  drawing  anything. 

I spent  the  evening  in  the  plaza,  listening  to  the  city  band 
and  watching  the  people  who  had  come  out  for  their  usual  Sun- 
day promenade.  There  were  many  pretty  girls  among  them,  but 
each  had  an  elderly  sister,  cousin,  or  aunt  with  her. 

Society  in  Panama  is  governed  by  Spanish  etiquette,  an  in- 
flexible rule  of  which  is  that  no  unmarried  woman  should  ever 
be  left  alone  with  a man.  The  Panama  girl  has  no  moonlight 
walks  or  drives  with  her  lover.  She  dare  not  receive  him  at  her 
house,  except  when  the  family  is  present,  and  when  he  invites 
her  to  go  to  the  theatre  or  the  bull-fight  the  other  ladies  of  the 
family  are  supposed  to  be  included  in  the  invitation.  This  cus- 
tom is  somewhat  surprising  to  foreigners.  One  young  American, 
for  instance,  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Panama  asked  a young 
lady  to  go  with  him  to  the  theatre.  When  he  called  for  her  he 
found  thirteen  old  and  middle-aged  women  dressed  and  ready  to 
go  with  him  and  his  inamorata.  His  tickets  that  night  cost  him 
more  than  his  weekly  salary,  and  it  was  only  by  chance  that  he 
happened  to  have  enough  money  to  pay  his  bill  at  the  box-office. 


FRUIT  MARKET  AT  PANAMA 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  PANAMA  CANAL 

A Description  of  this  Mighty  Work,  which  has  Cost  a Quarter  of  a Bil- 
lion Dollars,  and  is  not  Half  Done  — A Walk  along  the  Canal  — 
Three  Thousand  Labourers,  and  What  They  Are  Doing  — The  Canal 
Scandals,  and  how  De  Lesseps  and  his  Associates  stole  Millions  — 
Fortunes  in  Machinery  now  going  to  Waste — Will  the  Canal  be 
Completed  ? 

ill  the  Panama  Canal  ever  be  completed  ? The  officials 
of  the  new  French  company  which  has  taken  charge  of 
the  work  say  that  it  will.  They  have  had  3,000  men 
labouring  on  it  for  three  years,  and  in  that  time  a vast  deal  of 
dredging  and  cutting  has  been  accomplished. 

During  my  stay  on  the  Isthmus,  I walked  over  a large  part  of 
the  canal  route.  The  deepest  cutting  is  to  be  done  at  the  Cule- 
bra  tunnel  or  Pass.  Here  I found  800  men  at  work  cutting  down 
the  mountain,  and  was  told  that  more  than  2,000  were  employed 
within  a mile  of  each  side  of  this  point.  The  scene  was  a busy 
one.  Long  trains  of  iron  cars  were  carrying  their  loads  of  rock 
and  clay  from  one  point  to  another.  Immense  steel  dredges, 
each  as  tall  as  a two-story  house  and  ten  times  as  big  as  the 
largest  threshing-machine,  were  gouging  out  rock  and  gravel  and 
carrying  them  in  big  iron  buckets  fastened  to  endless  chains, 
and  pouring  them  into  the  cars.  Here  negroes  from  Jamaica 
were  drilling  holes  in  the  mountain  and  charging  them  with 
dynamite;  and  from  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  a mile  away,  I 
could  hear  the  boom,  boom,  boom  of  the  explosions  of  another 
gang. 

A little  farther  on,  at  the  station  of  Emperador,  seven  huge 
dredges  were  scooping  up  rock  into  enormous  buckets,  which  the 
machinery  elevated  to  trolley  lines  so  arranged  that  the  rock  was 
carried  by  gravity  to  the  places  where  it  was  most  needed. 

(40) 


CARIBBEAN 


SEA 


it 

it 


Isthmus  of 

Pan  an 


%\  \TP>. 

%\  '&$ 

oaLm  " 


ROUTE  OF  THE  PANAMA  ISTHMIAN  CANAL 


THE  PANAMA  CANAL 


43 


On  the  Pacific  the  entrance  to  the  canal  is  being  deepened 
by  dredges;  and  at  different  points  along  the  line  more  or  less 
work  is  going  on.  The  construction  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the 
new  company  which  was  founded  after  the  bursting  of  the  great 
Panama  bubble.  This  company,  I believe,  is  working  honestly, 
and  it  has  done  a vast  amount  of  cutting  and  dredging  with  the 
money  it  has  spent  since  its  organization.  Its  managers  estimate 
that  at  least  one-third  of  the  canal  has  been  already  completed, 


EXCAVATING  FOR  THE  PANAMA  CANAL 

and  that  they  can  finish  it  at  an  expenditure  of  a little  more 
than  $100,000,000.  Their  claims  have,  however,  a questionable 
foundation. 

Many  people  on  the  Isthmus  think  they  have  really  no  hope 
of  completing  the  canal,  and  that  they  are  merely  working  with 
the  idea  that  the  United  States  government  or  some  syndicate  of 
capitalists  will  buy  them  out.  They  claim  that  the  Panama  route 
is  far  superior  to  the  Nicaragua  route,  and  that  the  United 
States  can  never  build  the  canal  which  it  contemplates  farther 
north. 


44  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

But  let  me  give  in  a nutshell  the  story  of  the  canal.  It  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable,  yet  most  scandalous,  in  the  annals 
of  civil  engineering.  First,  let  us  see  what  has  been  attempted. 
The  Isthmus  of  Panama  as  it  lies  on  the  map  looks  like  the  neck 
of  an  hour-glass,  of  which  North  and  South  America  are  the 
globes.  It  is  a neck  uniting  the  two  continents,  and  it  is  made 
up  of  hard  rock  and  of  exceedingly  stiff  soil.  It  ranges  in  width 
from  30  to  180  miles,  but  it  is  big  enough  to  block  the  commerce 
of  the  world.  If  it  could  be  dropped  down  under  the  sea,  San 
Francisco  would  be  10,000  miles  nearer  to  New  York,  as  far  as 
our  ships  are  concerned,  and  the  commerce  of  Europe  and  the 
United  States  would  in  large  part  pass  through  it  on  its  way  to 
and  from  Asia. 

The  Isthmus  of  Panama  is  just  about  as  long  as  the  distance 
between  Washington  city  and  Boston  via  New  York.  A range 
of  low  mountains  runs  through  it,  and  along  the  coasts  are  mias- 
matic swamps  and  morasses.  The  distance  between  the  two  ends 
of  the  canal,  as  the  crow  flies,  is  not  more  than  forty  miles;  but 
the  canal  route  winds  about  so  that  it  is  more  than  forty-five 
miles  in  length.  It  has  the  advantage  of  the  river  valleys  of  the 
Chagres  on  the  Atlantic  and  of  the  Rio  Grande  on  the  Pacific. 
Where  it  crosses  the  Isthmus,  there  is  a pass  through  the  moun- 
tains, which  is  only  1,360  feet  high,  and  the  deep  cutting  which  is 
to  be  done  through  this  is  not  more  than  twelve  miles  in  length. 

If  the  canal  should  be  cut  down  to  sea  level,  it  will  be  nec- 
essary to  cut  away  all  this  1,360  feet  of  rock  and  earth;  but  if, 
as  is  now  contemplated,  locks  are  made,  much  less  cutting  will 
be  necessary.  Already  a large  part  of  the  deep  cutting  and 
dredging  has  been  done. 

On  the  Atlantic  side,  for  instance,  the  contract  for  dredging 
the  Chagres  river  and  constructing  some  miles  of  the  canal  was 
given  to  Americans.  They  employed  modern  machinery,  and 
opened  up  the  canal  for  about  fourteen  miles  back  from  the 
coast.  From  six  to  eight  miles  have  been  dredged  out  on  the 
Pacific  side,  so  that  after  the  mountains  are  cut  through,  the  ex- 
cavations from  ocean  to  ocean  will  be  comparatively  easy.  I 
examined  the  work  at  the  Culebra  ridge.  The  rock  is  soft,  and 
the  cutting  is  by  no  means  an  impossibility.  It  is  merely  a 
question  of  money  and  labour,  and  these  are  the  conditions,  so 
the  best  engineers  say,  as  to  all  parts  of  the  canal. 


DREDGING  MACHINE  AT  WORK  ON  THE  PANAMA  CANAL 


THE  PANAMA  CANAL 


47 


One  of  the  great  difficulties  is  the  taking  care  of  the  water 
of  the  Chagres  river.  The  canal  will  cross  the  river  six  times  in 
its  course.  In  dry  seasons  the  Chagres  is  a sluggish  stream,  300 
feet  wide,  and  about  three  feet  in  depth.  When  I crossed  it  on 
my  way  over  the  Isthmus,  it  seemed  little  more  than  a creek. 
In  the  wet  season  it  often  rises  thirty  feet  in  one  night;  it  then 
becomes  a raging  torrent,  and  bears  along  everything  on  its 
floods.  This  river  will  have  to  be  held  back  by  a mighty  dam, 
so  constructed  that  the  waters  can  be  let  out  gradually,  so  as 
not  to  injure  the  canal. 

This  was  one  of  the  problems  which  De  Lesseps  proposed  to 
solve  when  he  founded  the  Panama  Canal  Company.  With  his 
triumph  as  to  the  Suez  Canal  before  him,  he  thought  the  canal 
could  be  easily  made.  He  organized  a great  association.  Stock 
was  issued  by  the  hundreds  of  millions  of  francs,  and  was  greed- 
ily taken  up  by  the  French  people.  When  the  money  gave  out, 
printing-presses  were  set  to  work  to  make  more  stock,  so  that 
within  less  than  ten  years  the  enormous  amount  of  $265,000,000 
worth  of  stock  and  bonds  was  manufactured  and  sold. 

A large  part  of  this  vast  sum  was  spent  on  the  Isthmus  of 
Panama.  The  French  officials  poured  out  money  here  for  years. 
They  bought  everything  wholesale.  When  the  bubble  burst  they 
had  on  hand  among  other  things,  150  floating  derricks,  180  tow- 
boats and  launches,  6,000  iron  dumping  waggons,  190  miles  of  rail- 
road track  constructed  for  canal  work,  and  more  than  10,000  cars. 
This  plant  was  scattered  along  a distance  not  greater  than  from 
Washington  to  Baltimore.  They  had,  moreover,  built  beautiful 
cottages  on  every  hill  along  the  line  of  the  canal.  There  were 
5,000  buildings  along  the  route,  some  of  them  costing  thousands  of 
dollars.  They  constructed  quarters  for  30,000  workmen,  and  had 
hundreds  of  houses  made  in  pieces  in  the  United  States  and 
brought  to  Panama  to  be  put  together.  Most  of  these  houses  are 
now  unoccupied  save  by  negroes,  and  all  are  fast  going  to  ruin. 

The  waste  is  indescribable.  I saw  machinery,  which  must 
have  cost  millions,  rotting  and  rusting  away.  I saw  enough  car- 
wheels  to  equip  a trunk  line  of  railroad;  and  there  were  so  many 
rotten  trucks  that  if  their  pieces  could  be  put  together,  they  would 
make  a train  reaching  half-way  across  the  Isthmus.  The  officials 
bought  these  materials  in  vast  quantities  because  they  made  money 
out  of  every  contract,  and  the  more  they  bought  the  more  they 


48  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

made;  so  when  a train  r<*n  off  the  track  or  rolled  down  an  em- 
bankment they  let  it  lie,  and  ordered  more  cars. 

Those  were  the  days  when  money  was  the  cheapest  of  all 
things  on  the  Isthmus.  Gold  was  more  common  at  Panama  than 
copper  is  in  Montana.  Train-loads  of  it  were  carried  across  the 
Isthmus,  and  men  made  fortunes  in  a lump.  Eiffel,  the  man  who 
built  the  big  tower  at  Paris,  had  one  contract  which  netted  him 
$5,000,000.  New  York  parties  had  contracts  amounting  to  $20,- 
000,000.  They  did  honest  work,  too.  Irresponsible  engineers  took 


THE  EASTERN  END  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL 


all  sorts  of  contracts,  and  made  fortunes.  I heard  of  one  man 
who  had  been  discharged  as  worthless  by  a New  York  contractor. 
A few  weeks  later  his  old  employer  met  him  driving  about  in 
state  with  a black  valet.  Being  asked  how  he  had  got  along,  the 
ex-engineer  replied: 

“■  I am  rich  now.  I took  a contract  to  fill  a hole  along  the 
canal  for  $50,000.  Another  man  had  a contract  to  cut  down  a 
hill  near  my  hole  for  $150,000.  We  joined  hands,  and  I charged 
him  $50,000  to  put  his  hill  into  my  hole.  The  result  was  that  I 
made  $100,000  without  spending  a cent.” 


THE  PANAMA  CANAL 


49 


Another  man  measured  up  a part  of  the  Chagres  river  as  a 
section  of  his  excavation  contract,  and  by  collusion  with  the 
French  accountants  received  the  money.  And  so  the  game  went 
on.  Everybody  was  getting  rich.  The  banks  made  loans  at  ten 
per  cent,  a month.  Champagne  flowed  like  water;  and  Sarah 
Bernhardt  and  other  actresses  were  brought  from  Paris  to  amuse 
the  canal  officials. 

At  the  same  time  the  corruptionists  of  Paris  were  sharing  the 
profits.  Five  million  dollars  were  spent  upon  the  French  news- 
papers, other  millions  were  used  to  bribe  the  officials  of  the 
French  government;  altogether  more  than  a quarter  of  a billion 
dollars  were  spent  before  the  owners  of  the  canal  stock  realized 
that  they  were  being  swindled.  The  stockholders  were  chiefly 
the  peasants  of  France,  the  most  hard-fisted,  economical,  and 
accumulative  people  of  Europe.  They  had  come  to  the  assist- 
ance of  the  government  at  the  close  of  the  war  with  Germany, 
and  had  lent  it  a billion  dollars  to  pay  its  debt.  They  had  again 
shown  their  faith  in  the  so-called  great  men  of  France  in  this 
canal  scheme,  but  only  to  find  themselves  terribly  swindled. 

If  France  is  ever  to  finish  the  canal,  it  is  from  the  French 
people  that  its  money  must  come.  Will  they  respond  with  the 
investment  of  another  hundred  millions  or  so  when  the  money 
is  needed  ? In  all  probability  not.  The  Panama  canal  may  be 
built;  it  probably  will  be  built  some  day;  but  that  France  alone 
will  build  it  does  not  seem  among  the  possibilities. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  WONDERS  OF  COLOMBIA 

An  Undeveloped  Empire,  still  unexplored  — A Look  at  the  Cauca  Val- 
ley, where  Americans  are  now  Settling  — A River  of  Vinegar  — 
Bogota,  the  Capital — What  Colombia  produces  — It  is  a Land  of 
Gold — Queer  features  of  Travel  on  the  Southern  Pacific  — How 
One  Feels  on  the  Equator. 

s I begin  this  chapter  I am  on  the  hottest  geographical 
line  on  the  globe.  I am  on  the  deck  of  the  steamship 
Santiago , opposite  the  coast  of  Ecuador,  almost  exactly 
on  the  equator,  which  we  shall  cross  within  an  hour.  If  it  were 
not  for  a slight  breeze,  which  still  follows  us  from  the  northeast 
trade  winds,  the  air  would  be  stifling;  as  it  is,  the  very  sea  seems 
to  steam.  On  the  right  is  a vast  extent  of  ocean,  which  the  sun 
has  turned  into  molten  silver.  Ten  billion  diamonds  are  dancing 
up  and  down  on  the  wavelets;  and,  although  I am  under  cover, 
the  light  of  the  sun  as  reflected  from  the  water  dazzles  my  eyes 
as  do  the  direct  rays  of  a July  sun  at  home.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  steamer,  in  the  shadow,  the  water  is  of  an  indigo  blue ; 
and  as  I stand  up  and  look  about  me  I see  nothing  but  a vast 
expanse  of  what  in  the  hot,  hazy  air  appears  to  be  a steaming 
sea.  To  the  westward  the  Pacific  stretches  a distance  of  about 
10,000  miles  before  it  reaches  the  lower  part  of  Asia;  to  the  east 
is  the  equatorial  region  of  South  America,  including  the  snow- 
capped Andes  and  the  mighty  Amazon,  my  present  field  of  travel. 

It  is  now  three  days  since  I left  Panama  for  Guayaquil,  the 
port  of  Ecuador,  and  until  this  morning  we  have  been  sailing 
by  the  coast  of  Colombia,  though  in  many  places  only  150  miles 
from  the  shore.  In  this  way  we  have  saved  four  or  five  days  of 
travel,  and  will  make  Guayaquil  in  four  days,  while  the  coasting 
steamers  take  ten. 

The  boats  of  the  southern  Pacific  are  far  different  from  those 
on  the  northern  Pacific.  Indeed,  they  are  unlike  the  steamers  of 
(50) 


THE  WONDERS  OF  COLOMBIA 


51 


any  other  part  of  the  world.  The  cabins  are  larger,  and  the  quiet 
of  the  sea  — for  a storm  is  rare  here  — allows  the  ship  to  have 
several  decks  and  to  keep  everything  open.  There  is  about  a 
quarter  of  a mile  of  walking  space  on  the  two  upper  decks  of  the 
Santiago , and  on  the  top  deck  there  are  places  so  large  that  one 
could  almost  lay  out  a croquet  ground,  and  have  room  to  spare. 

I awake  every  morning  thinking  I am  on  a farm.  There  is 
a bleating  of  sheep,  a crowing  of  cocks,  and  a cackling  and  quack- 
ing of  geese  and  ducks.  Now  and  then  a cow  moos  or  a pig 
squeals.  We  carry  all  our  meat  with  us.  On  the  upper  deck, 
within  ten  feet  of  where  I am  writing,  there  are  two  big  coops 
full  of  chickens,  ducks,  and  geese.  The  coops  are  two-story  af- 
fairs, walled  with  slats.  The  chickens  are  in  the  top  story,  some 
roosting  and  others  poking  their  heads  out  to  get  at  the  water 
and  corn  in  the  troughs  outside.  The  ducks  and  geese  are  on 
the  ground  floor.  A little  further  over  there  are  crates  filled 
with  potatoes  and  onions,  and  others  containing  oranges  and  pine- 
apples. The  sheep  and  cattle  are  in  pens  and  stalls  two  floors 
below.  They  are  in  the  steerage,  near  the  butcher  shops  and  the 
kitchens. 

These  South  Pacific  steamers,  indeed,  carry  a travelling  market 
with  them.  There  are  men  who  pay  big  sums  for  the  privilege 
of  selling  from  the  ships  to  the  people  at  the  ports.  The  mar- 
ketmen  on  the  Santiago  had  in  stock  about  a dozen  waggon-loads 
of  oranges  and  pineapples  from  Panama  and  ten  fat  beeves  from 
Chile,  and  they  will  load  up  with  other  things  at  Guayaquil. 
They  will  take  this  stuff  to  the  ports  along  the  deserts  of  Peru 
and  Chile,  and  as  nothing  grows  there  they  will  get  high  prices. 

Travel  is  very  costly  on  the  South  Pacific.  Two  lines  of 
steamers  sail  between  Panama  and  Valparaiso.  One  belongs  to 
the  Pacific  Steam  Navigation  Company,  the  other  to  the  Chileans. 
The  two  companies  have  combined,  and  as  they  have  a monopoly 
of  the  business  they  keep  up  the  rates.  I have  never  paid  so 
much  for  steamship  travel  as  now.  The  fare  to  Guayaquil  from 
Panama  is  $67  in  gold  for  a distance  of  about  800  miles,  or  more 
than  eight  cents  a mile.  The  fares  to  Europe  by  the  first-class 
Atlantic  liners  are  not  more  than  three  cents  a mile,  and  on 
some  of  the  boats  only  two  cents  or  less.  The  South  Pacific  lines 
have  steamers  every  week,  north  and  south  from  Panama  to  Val- 
paraiso, a distance  of  3,000  miles.  The  through  rate  is  $154,  but 


52  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

all  passengers  are  charged  extra  for  stop-overs  at  the  ports,  and 
the  local  rates  are  correspondingly  higher. 

I am  surprised  at  the  extent  of  these  South  American  coun- 
tries. The  republic  of  Colombia,  along  which  we  have  been  sail- 
ing, and  of  which  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  forms  a part,  is  longer 
from  north  to  south  than  the  distance  between  St.  Paul  and  New 
Orleans,  and  wider  in  some  parts  than  from  New  York  to  Chi- 
cago. It  contains  an  area  of  more  than  500,000  square  miles. 
It  is  about  one-sixth  the  size  of  the  United  States,  without  Alaska; 
and  would  make  more  than  ten  states  the  size  of  New  York,  or 
twelve  as  big  as  Ohio  or  Kentucky.  The  Isthmus,  or  department, 
of  Panama  has  an  area  almost  four  times  as  large  as  Massachu- 
setts, and  Cauca,  one  of  the  Colombian  departments,  is  almost  as 
large  as  Texas. 

I have  met  a number  of  Americans  and  others  who  have  re- 
cently travelled  in  many  parts  of  Colombia.  They  tell  me  that 
the  country  is  an  undeveloped  empire,  and  that  much  of  it  is  as 
yet  unexplored.  There  are  a few  Americans  in  the  extreme 
north,  in  the  Chiriqui  lands  of  the  upper  Isthmus,  raising  coffee, 
and  others  have  been  buying  lands  in  the  Cauca  valley.  This 
valley  is  over  the  mountains,  a little  back  of  the  Pacific.  It  is 
several  hundred  miles  long,  and  about  twenty  or  more  miles  wide, 
and  is  said  to  have  some  of  the  most  fertile  lands  on-  the  globe. 

The  chief  mode  of  getting  about  through  Colombia  is  by 
means  of  the  rivers,  and  on  the  mule  and  donkey  paths,  which 
everywhere  cross  the  mountains.  No  country  has  more  curious 
streams.  One  of  them  is  known  in  Columbia  as  a river  of 
vinegar.  It  is  the  upper  part  of  the  Cauca  river.  The  Cauca 
rises  in  the  southern  part  of  the  country,  near  Ecuador,  and  after 
flowing  680  miles  north,  empties  into  the  Magdalena.  In  the 
upper  part  of  its  course  its  water  contains  eleven  parts  of  sul- 
phuric acid  and  nine  parts  of  hydrochloric  acid  in  every  thou- 
sand, and  is  so  sour  that  no  fish  can  live  in  it,  and  it  goes  by 
the  name  of  the  Rio  Vinagre  — the  Vinegar  river. 

The  Magdalena,  the  chief  river  of  Colombia,  corresponds  with 
our  Mississippi.  It  is  more  than  1,000  miles  long,  and  is  as  wide 
though  not  so  deep  as  the  Mississippi ; it  cuts  the  country  right 
in  two.  Steamers  of  light  draft  sail  weekly  from  Barranquilla, 
on  the  Caribbean  Sea,  up  the  Magdalena  to  Hondo,  where  you 
take  mules  and  climb  up  to  the  plain  of  Bogota,  on  which  the 


THE  WONDERS  OF  COLOMBIA 


53 


Colombian  capital  is  situated.  Then  there  are  branches  of  the 
Amazon  and  of  other  big  rivers  in  Colombia,  so  that  the  country 
is  almost  as  well  watered  as  China.  Ten  of  the  little  steamers 
on  the  Colombia  were  made  at  Pittsburg  and  brought  from 
New  York  in  pieces  and  here  put  together. 

Bogota  is  a city  of  about  120,000  inhabitants.  It  has  electric 
lights  and  a street  railroad,  which  were  put  in  by  Americans. 
It  has  a university  ninety-five  years  old,  a national  theatre,  a 
library  of  50,000  volumes,  an  astronomical  observatory,  and  a 
poor-house.  The  city  is  about  a half  mile  higher  up  in  the  air 
than  Denver,  and  its  climate  is  much  the  same.  It  is  the  head- 
quarters of  the  army,  and  is  the  scene  of  a revolution  now  and 
then. 

It  is  at  Bogota  that  the  President  lives,  and  there  the  Colom- 
bian Congress  meets.  The  city  is  very  healthful,  as  is  the  greater 
part  of  the  country  where  the  people  live.  It  is  only  the  coast 
lands  of  Colombia  that  are  low,  moist,  and  unhealthy.  A short 
distance  back  the  land  rises,  and  there  one  finds  plains  and  val- 
leys of  vast  extent,  from  3,000  to  5,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
Many  of  these  valleys  are  but  sparsely  inhabited.  They  contain 
good  land,  and  they  will  sometime  support  a large  population. 

Colombia  is  a land  of  gold.  It  is  like  Alaska  in  that  you 
cannot  wash  the  soil  anywhere  along  the  rivers  without  finding 
what  miners  call  (<  color. w I saw  men  washing  the  sands  in  the 
bay  of  Panama,  and  though  they  said  they  did  not  get  much,  I 
was  told  that  they  have  been  doing  the  same  work  for  years. 
It  was  here  that  the  Spaniards  got  some  of  their  first  gold;  and 
since  the  conquest  an  aggregate  of  $700,000,000  worth  of  the 
precious  metals  has  been  taken  out  of  Colombia.  A great  deal 
of  mining  is  now  going  on  in  the  department  of  Antioquia, 
which  is  reached  by  going  several  hundred  miles  up  the  Magda- 
lena river.  Here  small  diamonds  are  sometimes  found  with  the 
gold.  English  concerns  own  the  best  mines  of  this  region,  and 
much  capital  is  invested. 

S.  A.— 4 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  LAND  OF  TLIE  EQUATOR 

The  Wonders  of  Ecuador  — Trees  that  weave  Blankets  and  Mules  that 
wear  Pantalets — The  Curious  City  of  Guayaquil  — Its  Police  and 
Fire  Department  — Where  the  Taxes  are  Low  and  the  Death-Rate 
is  High  — Ecuador’s  Debt  Slaves  and  how  they  are  Oppressed. 

he  city  of  Guayaquil,  how  shall  I describe  it  ? It  is  one 
of  the  strangest  mixtures  among  municipal  creations.  It 
lies  about  forty  miles  up  the  wide  Guayas  river,  almost 
under  the  shadow  of  the  equator,  and  is  frowned  upon  by  the 
snowy  peaks  of  Chimborazo  and  Sangai.  Wooded  hills  surround 
it,  and  the  moist  miasmatic  air  of  the  tropics  lulls  it  to  sleep. 
It  is  a strange  combination  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Orient. 
Upon  its  wharves  one  is  reminded  of  Naples;  back  in  its  business 
sections  you  are  in  a maze  of  bazaars,  much  like  those  of  Cairo, 
Calcutta,  or  Constantinople.  Even  its  smells  smack  of  the  far 
East.  It  has  streets  more  slimy  than  Peking,  and  some  of 
its  customs  are  as  vile  as  those  of  Seoul.  Its  sidewalks  are 
filled  with  workmen  who  labor  at  their  trades  in  the  open,  with 
fierce-looking  Indians  carrying  bales  and  bags  upon  their  backs, 
and  black-haired  Indian  women  peddling  goods,  who  comb  the 
insects  from  their  own  and  their  children’s  heads,  and  lunch  upon 
them  during  the  intervals  of  their  sales. 

Guayaquil  has  also  its  better  classes.  It  has  well-dressed 
business  men  and  beautiful  women.  The  latter  usually  walk  in 
couples,  dressed  always  in  black,  with  black  shawls  picturesquely 
draped  about  their  olive-brown  faces.  In  some  parts  of  the  town 
you  find  many  fine  houses  built  after  the  Spanish  style,  with 
closed  balconies  extending  out  from  the  second  story.  The  bal- 
conies are  walled  with  windows,  from  under  whose  half-closed 
shutters  dark-eyed  beauties  look  down  upon  you  as  you  go 
through  the  street. 

(54) 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  EQUATOR 


55 


The  city  has  hundreds  of  donkeys.  Here  goes  one  loaded  with 
boards  so  strapped  to  its  sides  that  it  walks  along  as  if  it  were 
between  two  walls  of  pine  planks.  There  is  another  with  pan- 
niers across  its  back.  The  panniers  contain  loaves  of  bread,  the 
donkey  taking  the  place  of  the  baker’s  waggon. 

Guayaquil  has  about  50,000  inhabitants,  and  its  buildings  ex- 
tend along  the  west  bank  of  the  Guayas  for  a distance  of  two 
miles.  It  is  one  of  the  best  business  points  on  the  west  coast  of 
South  America.  It  is  the  New  York  of  Ecuador,  the  only  com- 
mercial port  of  a country  three  times  as  large  as  Ohio,  having  a 
population  about  the  same  as  Philadelphia.  Something  like  $10,- 
000,000  worth  of  goods  from  the  United  States  and  Europe  are 
landed  at  Guayaquil  every  year,  and  millions  of  dollars’  worth  of 
coffee,  cacao,  hides,  and  rubber  are  annually  shipped  from  it  to 
different  parts  of  the  civilized  world.  The  Guayas  river  is  so 
wide  and  deep  that  the  biggest  ocean  steamers  can  sail  up  to  the 
city,  and  all  the  ships  which  trade  along  the  west  coast  come  to 
it  for  goods. 

Guayaquil  has  two  banks,  one  of  which  pays  dividends  of  33^ 
per  cent  a year.  Its  stores  have  stocks  worth  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  dollars,  and  its  warehouses  are  filled  with  bags  of  cacao, 
coffee,  and  sugar.  It  has  daily  newspapers,  a tramway,  and  a 
line  of  river  steamers;  the  latter  were  imported  in  pieces  from 
the  United  States. 

Guayaquil  has  an  excellent  club,  at  which  you  will  meet  as 
good  fellows  as  anywhere  south  of  the  equator.  It  has  numerous 
priests  and  a big  church  facing  a beautiful  park,  where  the  band 
plays  after  worship  on  Sundays.  It  is,  however,  more  a city  of 
trade  than  of  religion  or  pleasure.  Its  leading  people  are  Italian, 
English,  French,  Spanish,  and  Chinese  business  men,  who  are  in- 
terested only  in  exports  and  imports. 

The  city  is  so  notoriously  unhealthful  that  no  one  would  live 
in  it  were  it  not  to  make  money.  I have  visited  many  of  the 
death-holes  of  the  world,  but  I have  yet  to  find  one  whose  unsani- 
tary condition  equals  that  of  Guayaquil.  The  streets  are  unpaved. 
In  the  dry  season  they  are  so  filled  with  dust  that  the  donkeys 
and  mules  wear  pantalets  to  keep  the  gadflies  and  mosquitoes 
from  eating  them  up.  In  the  wet  season  the  town  is  flooded 
whenever  it  rains,  and  between  the  showers  the  tropical  sun  coats 
the  stagnant  water  in  the  streets  with  a sickly  green  scum. 


56  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

This  is  the  unhealthy  season  in  Guayaquil  — the  season  of  yellow 
fever  and  malaria- — when  death  hovers  over  the  town,  and  the 
doctors  make  enough  to  give  them  summer  vacations  in  Europe. 

Still  Guayaquil  could  easily  be  made  healthful.  The  town  lies 
between  two  rivers,  and  could  be  drained  with  a ditch  plough  so 
that  the  tide,  which  is  here  very  high,  would  flush  it  twice  a day, 
but  its  people  let  it  remain  as  it  is.  The  result  is  that  every 
now  and  then  there  is  a great  epidemic.  Yellow  fever  often  carries 
off  thousands,  and  during  the  rainy  season  some  kind  of  fever  is 
almost  always  present. 

Guayaquil  has  no  sewers.  Its  water-works  are  pit-holes  sunk 
in  the  streets,  into  which  pumps  are  inserted  on  the  occasion  of 
a fire.  The  result  is  that  the  city  has  been  burned  down  again 
and  again.  There  was  a fire  last  year  which  consumed  half  of 
the  houses,  causing  a loss  of  more  than  $30,000,000.  This  makes 
fire  insurance  extremely  high,  the  current  Guayaquil  rate  being 
seven  per  cent  per  annum  on  all  city  property.  The  American 
consulate  has  offices  in  a three-story  building,  which  pays  a yearly 
insurance  of  $4,000;  and  there  are  other  buildings  which  cannot 
get  insurance  even  at  the  high  rate  indicated,  because  the  various 
companies  have  already  written  up  all  the  risks  they  care  for  in 
Guayaquil.  At  the  same  time  the  tax  on  real  estate  is  only 
three-tenths  of  one  per  cent,  and  the  natives  would  straightway 
have  a revolution  if  you  offered  to  tax  them  enough  to  pave  the 
streets  and  establish  a good  fire  department. 

Guayaquil,  however,  has  a wide-awake  police.  I know  this, 
for  during  my  first  few  nights  in  the  city  I heard  the  policemen 
every  fifteen  minutes  yelling  out  that  they  were  awake.  It  is  a 
police  regulation  that  every  man  on  watch  shall  call  out  or 
whistle  every  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  cry  is,  El  sentinel  es 
alerto  ("The  sentinel  is  alert”),  and  the  whistle  is  a combination 
more  wonderful  than  anything  except  the  cry  of  the  Guayaquil 
frog,  whose  hi-hi-hi  is  screamed  out  all  night  long.  The  Ecua- 
dorian police  are  soldiers.  They  carry  swords  and  guns,  and  both 
look  and  act  in  the  fiercest  manner.  One  of  them  almost  dropped 
his  gun  on  my  foot  the  other  day  as  I attempted  to  pass  him. 
He  said  "Atras!”  which  I suppose  means  "Back!”  At  least  1 
backed,  and  walked  around  the  other  way.  I have  since  learned 
that  no  one  may  pass  between  the  police  and  the  wall,  but  must 
go  outside.  I suppose,  if  the  policeman  has  to  fight,  he  prefers 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  EQUATOR 


57 


to  have  the  wall  at  his  back.  Another  regulation  is  that  all  peo- 
ple out  after  eleven  o’clock  p.  m.  must  give  an  account  of  them- 
selves. The  cry  is,  “ Who  goes  there  ? 0 and  the  answer  must 
satisfy  the  police  or  they  will  take  you  to  jail. 

I doubt,  however,  whether  there  is  a place  in  the  world  where 
it  is  so  easy  to  break  into  jail  as  here.  People  are  imprisoned 
for  debt,  and  it  is  a common  thing  for  a planter  who  wants 

hands  on  his  estate  to  go  to  the  jails  and  pay  the  debts  of  such 

of  the  prisoners  as  will  agree  to  transfer  their  debts  to  him  and 
work  them  out.  He  then  gives  them  small  wages,  and  takes  out 
perhaps  a dollar  a week  from  each  man’s  salary  until  the  debt 
is  paid.  In  the  jail  at  Bodegas,  a town  further  up  the  Guayas 
river,  I talked  with  a Jamaica  negro  who  told  me  he  had  been 

in  prison  for  months  because  he  had  failed  to  pay  a millionaire 

planter  sixteen  dollars  which  he  had  borrowed.  Said  he : “ If  I 
were  free  I could  work  to  get  the  money  to  pay  my  debt,  but 
they  keep  me  here  until  some  one  buys  me  out,  and  then  I must 
work  for  him,  or  he  can  put  me  in  again.0 

But  before  I go  further  let  me  tell  something  of  Ecuador. 
The  name  means  “equator,0  and  Ecuador  is  the  land  of  the 
equator.  It  lies  sandwiched  between  Colombia  and  Peru,  on 
the  west  coast  of  South  America,  in  the  shape  of  a great  fan 
whose  handle  extends  almost  to  Brazil  and  whose  scalloped  rim 
is  washed  by  the  Pacific  ocean.  It  is  one  of  the  least-known 
countries  of  the  world.  Parts  of  it  have  never  been  surveyed, 
and  to-day  the  geographical  estimates  of  its  size  range  all  the 
way  from  the  bigness  of  California  to  that  of  Texas. 

The  coast  of  Ecuador  is  low.  A rich  tropical  vegetation  ex- 
tends from  the  ocean  back  for  one  hundred  miles  or  less  to  the 
foothills  of  the  Andes.  The  Andes  cross  the  country  from  north 
to  south  in  two  great  parallel  ridges,  upholding  between  them  a 
series  of  beautiful  valleys,  in  which  about  nine-tenths  of  the  peo- 
ple live.  These  valleys  are  from  a mile  and  a-half  to  two  miles 
above  the  sea,  and  give  the  interior  a healthful  climate,  which  is 
more  like  that  of  New  York  city  than  the  equator. 

East  of  the  Andes  the  country  is  a tropical  wilderness.  The 
Maranon  river,  a great  branch  of  the  Amazon,  flows  along  its 
southern  boundaries,  and  steamers  go  up  the  Amazon,  enter  the 
Maranon,  and  bring  you  within  a comparatively  short  distance  of 
Quito.  In  fact,  you  can  come  to  within  four  days’  mule  travel 


58  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


of  Quito  by  water  via  these  great  rivers  and  the  streams  which 
flow  into  them. 

Ecuador  has  some  of  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Andes.  Scores 
of  its  high  elevations  are  always  covered  with  snow,  and  it  has 
mighty  glaciers.  Chimborazo,  which  on  clear  days  is  visible  at 
Guayaquil,  is  20,498  feet  above  the  sea;  the  volcano  Cotopaxi  is 
over  19,000  feet  high;  and  the  great  valley  of  Ecuador  is  guarded 
by  twenty-one  peaks,  ranging  in  height  from  three  to  four  miles; 
while  there  are  seventeen  other  peaks  which  are  more  than  two 
miles  in  height.  To-day  in  Guayaquil  the  air  is  filled  with  ashes 
which  come  from  one  of  Ecuador’s  ten  active  volcanoes;  and 
every  week  or  so  an  earthquake  makes  the  ground  tremble. 

The  houses  of  Guayaquil  are  built  to  withstand  the  earthquakes. 
They  are  of  timbers  so  joined  and  spliced  that  they  sway  with 
the  trembling  of  the  earth,  and  do  not  break.  The  framework 
is  covered  with  bamboo  laths,  made  by  splitting  the  canes;  and 
on  these  bamboos  a coating  of  plaster  is  spread.  This  makes  the 
houses  look  as  though  their  walls  were  backed  with  brick  and 
stone,  when,  in  fact,  they  are  really  made  up  of  good-sized  fishing- 
poles.  Just  now  a vast  deal  of  building  is  going  on,  and  the 
hammer  of  the  carpenter  nailing  on  laths  is  always  to  be  heard. 
Much  of  the  lumber  used  comes  from  Oregon  and  Washington, 
and  some  from  Georgia. 

The  equatorial  coast  region  is  full  of  vegetable  wonders.  In 
my  sixty  miles  sail  from  the  Pacific  up  the  river  Guayas  I passed 
vast  meadows  as  green  as  Egypt  in  winter,  in  which  fat  cattle, 
horses,  and  mules  stood  up  to  their  bellies  in  the  grass,  which 
they  ate  without  bending  over.  I passed  rich  plantations  of  sugar- 
cane, which  here  reaches  the  height  of  ten  feet,  and  grows  for 
twenty-five  years  without  replanting.  I saw  cacao  orchards  loaded 
down  with  the  fruit  from  which  our  chocolate  comes,  groves  of 
cocoanut  palms  bearing  bushels  of  green  nuts  as  big  as  your 
head,  and  was  offered  so  many  strange  fruits  that  I cannot  give 
their  names.  They  have,  for  instance,  the  papaya  tree,  which 
bears  a fruit  as  big  as  a musk  melon  and  of  much  the  same 
nature.  There  are  other  trees  which  have  very  large  fruit,  among 
them  the  ivory  palm,  from  which  the  vegetable  ivory  of  com- 
merce comes.  This  tree  has  burrs  much  the  shape  of  chestnut- 
burrs,  but  eight  or  ten  inches  thick;  and  each  burr  contains  a 
dozen  or  more  nuts,  which  when  green  are  filled  with  a soft 


GUAYAQUIL,  ECUADOR 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  EQUATOR  6 1 

jelly-like  substance  tasting  not  unlike  cocoanut  milk.  As  the 
nuts  grow  ripe  the  pulp  hardens  ta  a consistency  so  tough  that 
it  can  be  used  for  making  buttons,  combs,  and  other  similar 
things. 

One  of  the  most  peculiar  trees  of  Ecuador  has  a bark  which 
serves  the  Indians  for  clothes.  I have  a blanket  made  of  it. 
The  blanket  is  six  feet  long,  and  five  feet  wide,  and  is  as  soft 
and  pliable  as  though  it  were  flannel.  It  can  be  rolled  up  and 
put  into  a shawl-strap  without  hurting  it,  and  yet  it  is  merely  a 
strip  of  bark  from  a tree.  The  Indians  make  cuttings  about  the 
tree,  and  tear  off  the  bark  in  sheets.  They  soak  it  in  water  un- 
til it  is  soft,  and  then  pound  off  the  rough  outside,  leaving  the 
inside  perfectly  whole.  The  inside  bark  is  composed  of  fine  fibres 
so  woven  by  nature  that  they  are  not  unlike  cloth,  and  are  warm 
enough  to  serve  as  a blanket,  and  soft  enough  to  take  the  place 
of  a mattress. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  BANGKOK  OF  ECUADOR 

A Ride  up  the  Guayas  River  to  the  Foot  of  the  Andes — The  Floating 
Town  of  Babahoy'O,  whose  People  live  upon  the  Water  — A Visit  to 
the  Cacao  Plantations  whence  our  Chocolate  comes  — Ecuadorian 
Farming  and  its  enormous  Profits  — Wages  and  the  Cost  of  Living. 

he  Guayas  river  is  to  South  America  what  the  Columbia 
river  is  to  North  America.  It  is  the  biggest  stream  on 
the  Pacific  side  of  the  continent.  It  is  the  outlet  of  a 
great  network  of  streams  which  flow  down  from  the  Andes  and 
in  the  rainy  season,  from  December  until  May,  convert  much  of 
the  country  into  a vast  lake. 

We  entered  the  Guayas  estuary  just  opposite  the  island  of 
Puno,  on  which  Pizarro  landed  when  he  started  south  to  conquer 
Peru ; and,  skirting  this,  we  came  into  the  Gulf  of  Guayaquil, 
which  forms  the  mouth  of  the  river.  At  this  point  the  estuary 
is  sixty  miles  wide,  and  as  we  sailed  up  to  Guayaquil  city  we 
seemed  to  be  passing  through  an  inland  sea.  The  waters  were 
of  the  colour  and  thickness  of  pea-soup.  They  were  spotted  with 
patches  of  green  — great  tiees  and  other  debris,  which  they  were 
carrying  from  the  Andes  down  to  the  sea.  At  Guayaquil  the 
Guayas  is  more  than  a mile  wide,  and  over  twenty-five  feet  deep. 
It  furnishes  a safe  harbor  for  the  largest  of  the  South  Pacific 
steamers,  and  is  filled  with  craft  of  many  kinds,  from  great  ships 
to  the  dug-outs,  rafts,  and  cargo  boats  used  by  the  natives  to 
bring  their  wares  from  the  interior  to  the  markets. 

I left  Guayaquil  in  the  little  American  built  steamer  Puigmir 
for  the  town  of  Babahoyo,  which  is  far  in  the  interior,  at  the  foot 
of  the  Andes,  where  mules  are  obtained  for  the  highlands  on  the 
other  side  of  the  mountains.  Shortly  after  leaving  Guayaquil  we 
passed  the  mouth  of  the  Daule  river,  and  a few  hours  later  came 
into  the  river  Babahoyo,  which  is  the  headstream  of  the  Guayas. 
We  sailed  up  this  stream  all  night,  and  in  the  early  morning 
(62) 


THE  BANGKOK  OF  ECUADOR 


63 


came  to  anchor  among  the  floating  houses  of  Babahoyo,  the  Bang- 
kok of  Ecuador.  Owing  to  the  floods  the  houses  are  built  upon 
piles,  and  at  such  times  the  people  practically  live  upon  the 
water,  and  go  from  one  place  to  another  in  canoes.  Only  a small 
part  of  the  town  is  out  of  the  water,  and  even  there  the  streets 
are  little  better  than  rivers.  On  landing  I was  carried  ashore 
on  the  shoulders  of  a half-naked  Indian;  and  it  was  on  bridges  of 
logs  that  I crossed  from  street  to  street.  The  business  section 
of  the  town  is  on  a short  strip  of  elevated  land,  so  that  the  stores 
are  free  from  water.  As  you  cross  the  low  places,  however,  you 
must  hug  the  buildings,  and  balance  yourself  on  logs. 

Babahoyo  is  so  different  from  an  American  town  that  it  is 
difficult  to  describe  it.  Its  houses  are  of  wood.  The  larger  ones 
are  of  two  stories,  the  ground  floors  being  taken  up  with  cave- 
like stores,  and  the  floors  above  forming  the  living  quarters  of 
the  people.  There  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  pavements  or  modern 
improvements.  The  town  has  neither  sewers  nor  gutters.  Its 
only  bathroom  is  a floating  shed  with  holes  in  its  floor,  through 
which  you  may  dip  yourself  into  the  river,  with  the  possibility  of 
losing  a leg  by  the  nip  of  an  alligator.  There  is  not  a fireplace 
nor  chimney  in  the  city.  There  is  not  a glass  window,  the  rooms 
on  the  second  floor  are  ventilated  by  a lattice  work  running 
around  the  ceiling.  The  front  walls  of  the  lower  stories  are 
movable.  They  are  thrown  back  in  the  daytime,  so  that  you  can 
see  all  that  goes  on,  as  in  the  ground  floors  of  Japan. 

The  houses  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  city  are  built  high  upon 
piles.  In  dry  seasons  the  ground  under  them  is  used  for  chickens, 
donkeys,  and  cattle;  in  the  rainy  season,  as  now,  these  animals 
are  kept  with  the  family  on  the  second  floor,  or  upon  rafts  swung 
to  the  piles  so  that  they  rise  and  fall  with  the  tide. 

To-day  there  are  hundreds  of  houses  which  can  be  reached 
only  in  canoes.  The  children  go  to  school  in  canoes,  and  the 
marketing  is  done  in  boats.  The  poorer  houses  consist  of  little 
more  than  one  room,  about  six  feet  square,  built  upon  piles,  gen- 
erally ten  feet  above  the  ground,  and  reached  by  a ladder  out- 
side. The  houses  are  thatched  with  broad  white  leaves  tied  to 
a framework  of  bamboo-cane.  The  floor  is  of  cane,  and  it  has 
so  many  cracks  that  the  women  do  not  need  to  sweep,  the 
dirt  of  the  household  falling  through  to  the  ground  or  into 
the  water. 


64  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Modern  conveniences  and  sanitary  arrangements  are  practically 
unknown  to  the  natives  of  Ecuador.  In  the  houses  of  the  com- 
mon people  there  is  no  privacy  whatever;  men  and  women,  boys 
and  girls,  wives  and  maidens,  all  herd  together,  sleeping  in  the 
same  clothes  they  wear  in  the  daytime,  lying  indiscriminately  on 
the  floor,  or  in  the  hammocks  which  form  the  beds  of  the  country. 

The  cooking  is  done  in  clay  pots  on  a fire-box  filled  with  dirt. 
The  fuel  is  mainly  charcoal,  the  pots  being  raised  upon  tiles  or 
bricks  to  allow  room  for  the  coals  underneath.  The  chief  food 
of  the  tropical  parts  of  the  country  is  the  potato-like  tuber  known 
as  the  (<  yucca, M and  plantains,  or  large  bananas.  Much  rice  is 
used,  being  cooked  with  lard,  most  of  which  comes  from  the 
United  States.  The  people  do  not  seem  to  know  anything  of 
butter,  although  the  country  has  many  fine  cattle.  Indeed,  about 
the  only  butter-eaters  in  Ecuador  are  foreigners,  the  butter  chiefly 
sold  being  Italian,  in  one  and  two  pound  tins.  It  sells  for  fifty 
cents  gold  a pound,  and  at  this  price  the  profit  is  small,  as  the 
tariff  and  selling  charges  are  high. 

Landing  at  Babalioyo  I was  at  a loss  how  to  make  myself 
understood  by  the  natives.  No  one  about  spoke  English,  and  my 
Spanish  did  not  seem  to  be  understood.  At  last,  however,  I 
heard  that  an  American  lived  in  the  city.  This  was  a Mr.  Klein, 
a carpenter  and  undertaker.  I found  him  among  his  coffins.  He 
left  his  work  and  devoted  himself  to  me  for  the  day.  Together 
we  went  to  visit  one  of  the  biggest  plantations  of  Ecuador,  that 
of  Mr.  Augustin  Barrios,  a man  who  owns  thousands  of  cattle 
and  horses,  and  who  sells  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds  of 
chocolate  beans  every  year.  The  plantation  was  then  under  water, 
and  we  had  to  take  a canoe  to  visit  it.  Our  canoe  was  about 
thirty  feet  long  and  not  over  thirty  inches  wide.  It  was  a dug-out, 
and  was  poled  and  sculled  by  two  lusty  brown-skinned  gondoliers, 
one  of  whom  stood  at  each  end  of  it.  Mr.  Klein  sat  in  the  bot- 
tom, and  I was  given  a place  in  the  centre  of  the  canoe,  and 
told  to  hold  myself  steady. 

Leaving  the  city  we  were  pushed  along  through  the  wide 
streets  of  water,  between  the  floating  huts,  until  at  last  we  moved 
on  into  the  tropical  forest.  We  rowed  for  miles  among  the  tree 
tops,  now  grazing  a great  black  alligator  and  again  chattered  at 
by  monkeys  who  made  faces  at  us  as  they  scampered  away.  The 
trees  were  full  of  strange  birds  which  fluttered  and  made  cries 


THE  BANGKOK  OF  ECUADOR 


65 


as  we  went  by.  We  got  a shot  at  one,  a beautiful  thing  as  big 
as  a pigeon,  with  a blood-red  bill,  long  legs  of  a golden  yellow, 
and  feathers  of  royal  purple.  Later  on  I shot  at  an  alligator,  but 
the  canoe  swayed  as  I stood  up  in  it,  and  the  ugly  monster  dived 
down  unharmed.  There  were  wild  ducks  and  other  birds  which 
I had  never  seen  before,  and  Mr.  Klein  told  me  that  he  often 
bags  a deer  on  the  highlands  and  sometimes  a wild  hog  or  a 
jaguar. 

The  ride  was  wonderfully  beautiful.  Under  us  there  were 
twelve  feet  of  water,  where  a few  weeks  before  all  had  been 
dry  land.  The  trees  made  a thick  arbour-like  shade  over  us,  and 
we  wound  in  and  out  through  their  tops,  now  making  our  way 
along  a narrow  canal  of  green,  and  then  shooting  out  into  a great 
green-walled  chamber  of  water,  the  trees  about  which  were 
loaded  down  with  orchids,  which  in  New  York  would  be  worth 
many  dollars.  Insects  were  plentiful.  Bugs  and  ants  of  every 
description  fell  upon  us  as  we  floated  onward,  and  Mr.  Klein 
told  me  how  a boa-constrictor  once  dropped  down  into  his  boat 
from  the  branches  above.  The  vegetation  of  this  region  is  all 
strange  and  tropical.  There  are  rubber  trees,  trees  loaded  with 
alligator  pears,  and  here  and  there  a tall  palm  had  hoisted 
its  green  head  above  the  others.  The  silence  was  almost  oppres- 
sive. The  soft  air  was  heavy  with  peace  and  rest,  and  the  ripple 
of  the  water  as  our  long  canoe  worked  its  way  onward  invited  us 
to  sleep.  At  one  point  a canoe  with  a family  of  Indians  passed 
us;  at  another  a great  cargo-boat,  loaded  with  cacao,  was  shoved 
along  on  its  way  to  market. 

Nearly  all  the  country  over  which  we  travelled  belongs  to  the 
millionaire  planter.  When  we  left  the  forest  we  came  directly 
into  the  grazing  lands  of  his  plantation.  The  grass  was  under 
water,  and  his  herds  had  been  taken  to  the  highlands  on  the 
edge  of  the  Andes.  He  was  in  a wide  waste  of  waters,  above 
which,  here  and  there,  the  tops  of  wire  fences  were  to  be  seen. 
We  rowed  right  over  the  fences,  now  and  then  passing  tenant 
houses  of  bamboo  thatched  with  palm  leaves.  The  houses  were 
built  upon  piles  like  those  of  Babahoyo.  Under  each,  just  over 
the  water,  was  a platform  on  which  the  chickens  and  pigs  of  the 
owner  lived  within  six  inches  of  drowning.  As  we  neared  the 
great  white  house  of  the  planter  we  saw  more  and  more  of  these 
houses.  We  passed  a butcher’s  shop  where  the  animals  which 
S.  A.— 4 


66  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

furnish  the  meat  for  the  planter  are  killed.  It  floated  on  the 
water.  We  went  by  a great  barn  upon  piles,  and  sailed  over  the 
front  gate,  amid  a lot  of  steel  cacao  boats,  to  the  second  story  of  a 
large  three-story  building  roofed  with  red  tiles,  the  home  of  the 
planter. 

We  were  met  at  the  door  by  the  owner.  Our  boat  was  tied 
to  the  veranda,  and  we  were  at  once  made  at  home.  Wine  and 
cognac  were  placed  before  us,  and  a breakfast  was  ordered. 
While  we  waited  the  two  pretty  daughters  of  the  planter  were 
called  in  to  entertain  us,  and  we  drank  to  the  better  relations 
of  our  countries  and  continents.  Later  on  the  planter  sent  out 
an  Indian  servant  to  climb  one  of  the  cocoanut  trees  in  the  back- 
yard for  fresh  cocoanuts.  He  gave  us  a drink  of  cocoanut  milk, 
and  then  sent  men  with  us  in  canoes  to  the  cacao  orchard  and 
other  parts  of  the  estate. 

During  my  visit  I learned  much  about  cacao  and  the  profits 
of  Ecuadorian  farming.  The  planter  told  me  that  he  would  har- 
vest 300,000  pounds  of  cacao  this  year,  and  that  his  net  profits 
from  this  source  alone  would  be  about  $30,000.  Cacao  orchards 
pay  well  in  Ecuador.  There  are  few  plantations  which  do  not 
net  ten  per  cent  annually,  and  many  about  Guayaquil  bring  in 
from  thirty  to  forty  per  cent.  It  costs  about  three  cents  of  our 
money  to  raise  a pound  of  cacao,  which  sells  in  Guayaquil  for 
fourteen  cents,  making  a clear  profit  to  the  farmer  of  eleven 
cents  gold  per  pound.  The  amount  produced  here  is  enormous, 
about  40,000,000  pounds  of  cacao  beans  being  annually  shipped 
from  Ecuador  to  Europe  and  the  United  States. 

Until  I came  here  I had  an  idea  that  cacao  beans  grew  on 
bushes.  On  the  contrary  they  come  from  trees  from  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  high.  The  cacao  tree  is  much  like  a large  lilac  bush; 
it  is  ragged  and  gnarly.  Its  fruit,  which  is  bigger  than  the 
pomelo,  grows  close  to  the  stem  or  trunk.  It  is  of  the  shape 
and  colour  of  a lemon,  although  much  larger,  and  the  seeds  are 
the  chocolate  beans  of  commerce.  Each  ball  of  fruit  contains 
from  twenty-eight  to  thirty  seeds  about  as  large  as  Lima  beans. 
These  are  washed  out  of  the  pulp  when  the  fruit  is  ripe,  and 
are  then  dried  and  shipped  to  the  chocolate  factories  all  over  the 
world. 

The  cacao  trees  are  grown  in  orchards.  They  are  planted 
close  together,  so  that  several  hundred  trees  can  be  grown  to 


THE  BANGKOK  OF  ECUADOR 


67 


the  acre.  Cultivated  orchards  are  sold  at  the  rate  of  sixty  cents 
a tree,  but  wild  land  is  cheap;  and  as  it  is  only  a matter  of  five 
years  to  bring  an  orchard  into  bearing,  it  is  much  more  profit- 
able for  the  investor  to  buy  the  land  and  raise  the  trees. 

The  first  thing  is  to  clear  and  burn  the  ground.  Then  ba- 
nana plants  are  set  out  about  ten  feet  apart  to  furnish  a shade 
for  the  young  trees,  a hill  of  cacao  beans  being  set  midway  be- 
tween each  two  banana  plants.  Three  beans  are  put  in  a hill. 
They  sprout  quickly,  and  during  their  first  few  months  look  like 
little  orange  trees.  At  three  years  they  begin  to  produce  fruit, 
and  at  five  years  each  tree  should  yield  from  one  to  two  pounds 
of  chocolate  beans  every  year.  The  care  of  the  orchard  is  very 
easy.  It  is  necessary  only  to  keep  down  the  vegetation,  for  such 
a thing  as  hoeing  or  ploughing  a crop  is  not  known  in  tropical 
Ecuador. 

The  greatest  trouble  of  the  farmer  is  the  lack  of  good  labour. 
Sen  or  Barrios  told  me  that  he  lost  a part  of  his  crop  every  year 
because  he  could  not  get  hands  to  harvest  it,  and  this,  notwith- 
standing the  workmen  on  his  plantation  were  in  debt  to  him  to 
the  extent  of  about  $80,000  in  gold.  He  looked  upon  this  sum 
as  his  labour  capital,  for  the  debts  were  to  be  worked  out,  and  on 
this  account  he  held  back  every  day  a certain  proportion  of  the 
wages  of  each  of  his  debt  slaves. 

It  is  said  that  slavery  no  longer  exists  in  Ecuador.  It  may 
not  exist  as  it  did  in  the  days  of  Pizarro,  when  the  Indians  were 
branded,  whipped,  and  killed  at  the  will  of  their  owners;  but  it 
is  really  in  force  through  the  debt  laws  and  the  customs  of  the 
peons,  which  keep  them  in  debt  to  their  masters.  The  wages  are 
so  low  that,  once  in  debt,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  out. 
Near  the  coast  peons  are  paid  about  eight  dollars  a month,  but 
in  the  interior  they  do  not  receive  over  half  this,  and  one-tenth 
of  their  earnings  goes  to  the  church. 

The  planters  give  their  labourers  twelve  ounces  of  meat,  four- 
teen ounces  of  rice  or  beans,  and  a little  lard  or  salt  a day. 
Each  also  gets  a hat,  three  coarse  cotton  shirts,  three  pairs  of 
cotton  pantaloons  a year,  and  a house  such  as  I have  already  de- 
scribed. Their  hours  of  work  are  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  and 
if  a man  skips  a day,  it  is  charged  to  him.  The  women  and 
children  must  work  as  well  as  the  men,  and  if  a man  runs  away 
he  is  put  in  prison  for  debt,  and  stays  there  until  some  other 


68  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

planter  is  willing  to  pay  him  out  and  take  him  into  his  service. 
Even  should  a man  get  out  of  debt,  the  conditions  are  such  that 
he  is  soon  in  again.  If  there  is  a death  in  his  family,  he  has  to 
borrow  money  to  bury  his  dead.  If  he  would  be  married,  the 
priests  will  charge  him  six  dollars  for  performing  the  ceremony; 
and  if  he  wants  a hog  or  a donkey,  it  is  only  by  going  into  debt 
that  he  can  get  one.  As  to  marriage,  he  usually  prefers  living 
without  the  ceremony  to  paying  the  marriage  fees,  and  to-day  it 
is  said  that,  on  this  account,  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  births 
in  Ecuador  are  illegitimate. 

Wages  in  Guayaquil  and  along  the  coast  are  much  higher  than 
in  the  interior.  In  the  cities  common  workmen  get  seventy-five 
cents  a day;  carpenters,  a dollar  and  a-half  or  two  dollars;  masons, 
painters,  and  blacksmiths  about  the  same,  and  men  servants  em- 
ployed by  the  month,  from  |io  to  $12,  with  board.  Women  re- 
ceive from  $6  to  $10,  with  board.  Tailors  and  shoemakers  receive 
from  $6  to  $12  per  week;  and  printers,  bakers,  and  barbers  about 
the  same. 

Living  is  in  some  respects  cheap,  but  as  regards  imported 
articles  it  is  exceedingly  dear.  I paid  a dollar  a pound  for  canned 
meats;  and  a camp  bed,  which  I carry  with  me,  worth  perhaps 
$3  at  home,  cost  me  in  Guayaquil  $8  of  our  money.  Chairs, 
which  could  be  bought  for  fifty  cents  at  home,  cost  here  $3. 
They  come  in  pieces,  and  are  put  together  by  the  furniture 
dealers. 


CHAPTER  VII 


AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  EQUATOR 

The  Highlands  of  the  Northern  Andes — Chimborazo  and  Cotopaxi  — 
Peculiar  features  of  Quito,  the  highest  Capital  City  in  the  World 
— Civilization  in  Ecuador — The  different  classes  of  the  People 
— How  the  Whites  rule  — The  Aborigines  — Savage  Indians  who 
Bake  the  Heads  of  their  Enemies. 

lthough  Ecuador  straddles  the  equator,  the  greater  part 
of  it  has  an  excellent  climate.  It  is  a land  of  the  sky, 
for  it  has  a dozen  towns  which  are  twice  as  high  up 
in  the  air  as  Denver.  Nine-tenths  of  its  inhabitants  live  in  the 
clouds.  It  has  cattle  ranches  in  the  Andes  which  are  more  than 
two  miles  above  the  Pacific  ocean ; and  it  has  in  Quito  the  high- 
est capital  city  in  the  world. 

Quito  is  situated  in  a valley  between  the  two  ranges  of  the 
Andes,  on  the  very  roof  of  South  America.  It  is  more  than  half 
a mile  higher  than  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  more  than  a thousand 
feet  higher  than  the  Hospice  of  St.  Bernard,  in  the  Alps,  the 
highest  point  in  Europe  where  men  live  all  the  year  round. 

Quito  claims  a population  of  80,000  people.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  it  has  50,000.  It  is  not  half  so  large  as  it  was  before 
the  country  was  discovered  by  the  Spaniards.  At  that  time  it 
was  one  of  the  great  centres  of  the  Inca  civilization,  a civiliza- 
tion which  was  better  than  that  of  many  of  the  Ecuadorians  of 
to-day.  The  city  then  had  several  hundred  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  it  was  for  many  years  more  populous  than  it  is  now. 

Quito  is  thus  one  of  the  old  cities  of  the  world.  The  Indians 
have  many  traditions  concerning  it.  They  claim  that  there  was 
a town  upon  its  site  before  Christ  was  born ; and  it  is  known 
that  there  was  a settlement  there  in  a.  d.  1000.  At  the  time  of 
the  Incas  it  was  a city  of  temples  and  palaces.  Atahualpa,  the 
Inca  monarch,  who  was  murdered  by  Pizarro,  had  a home  in  it, 
the  roof  of  which  was  plated  with  gold;  and  the  city  contained 
S.  A.— 5 (69) 


70  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

vast  treasures,  which  were  buried  by  the  Indians  in  order  that 
they  might  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards. 

The  Quito  of  to-day  is  like  a Spanish  city  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  people  of  Guayaquil  say  that  it  is  just  about  a hundred 
years  behind  the  moon.  It  has  nothing  in  the  way  of  modern 
improvements,  and  few  modern  customs,  and  it  is  so  difficult  of 
access  that  travellers  seldom  get  to  it. 

The  only  means  of  crossing  the  Andes  is  on  mules.  You  go 
first  to  Babahoyo,  and  from  there  make  your  way  over  the 
mountains,  a distance  of  165  miles,  to  Quito.  The  round  trip 
costs  about  $100,  and  if  you  have  baggage  considerably  more. 
All  goods  taken  to  and  from  the  central  valley  of  Ecuador  are 
carried  up  the  mountains  on  the  backs  of  men  and  mules.  At 
Babahoyo  I saw  twenty-four  Indians  starting  out  for  Quito  with 
a piano.  The  piano  was  cased,  and  the  men  were  bearing  it 
along  on  their  heads.  The  cost  of  transportation  was  almost  as 
great  as  the  price  of  the  piano.  Ordinary  packages  cost  from  $60 
to  $70  per  ton;  the  freight  on  a small  boiler  recently  shipped 
was  $100.  Absolutely  nothing  has  been  done  in  the  way  of  mak- 
ing roads,  and  you  travel  along  narrow  paths,  fording  streams, 
your  mule  at  times  wading  through  mud  up  to  its  belly.  Parts 
of  the  road  are  so  steep  that  you  have  to  lean  over  and  clasp 
the  neck  of  the  animal  you  are  riding  to  hold  on,  and  in  de- 
scending some  of  the  declivities  the  mules  sit  down  and  slide. 

The  Ecuadorians  say,  (<  Our  roads  are  for  birds,  not  for  men.” 
You  realize  this  again  and  again  during  the  journey,  which  in 
the  wet  season  is  uncomfortable  from  start  to  finish.  There  is 
almost  constant  rain ; and  you  cannot  rest  in  the  wretched  inns, 
they  are  so  infested  with  unmentionable  insects. 

It  grows  colder  as  you  ascend,  and  at  the  top  you  need  your 
heaviest  clothing.  Crossing  the  coast  range  you  enter  a wide 
valley  more  than  two  miles  above  the  sea,  finally  reaching  the 
little  town  of  Ambato,  about  seventy  miles  from  Quito.  Here 
you  get  a stage,  which  takes  you  to  the  capital.  The  stage-coach 
is  of  English  make,  but  antiquated.  It  is  pulled  by  relays  of 
mules,  which  carry  you  on  the  gallop. 

Another  route  from  Guayaquil  to  the  capital  is  over  Ecua- 
dor’s only  railroad  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains  at  Chimbo.  The 
road  is  a narrow  gauge,  fifty-four  miles  long,  built  by  an  Amer- 
ican named  Kelley.  The  original  idea  was  to  carry  it  over  the 


AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  EQUATOR 


71 


Andes,  and  this  may  be  done  at  some  time  in  the  future,  a conces- 
sion to  that  effect  having  been  granted  to  an  American  syndicate. 

Quito  is  beautifully  situated,  right  in  the  mountains,  walled 
in,  as  it  were,  by  some  of  the  highest  peaks  of  the  Andes.  Just 
back  of  it  is  the  active  volcano,  Pichincha,  its  snow-capped  peak 
so  near  the  city  that  the  ice  for  making  Quito’s  ice-cream  comes 
from  there.  Pichincha  has  a crater  half  a mile  deep  and  a mile 
wide  at  the  bottom.  It  is  a mile  higher  up  in  the  air  than  Mt. 
JEtna;  and  its  eruptions,  which  occur  at  long  intervals,  are  such 
that  Mount  Vesuvius  would  be  a portable  furnace  beside  it. 

It  is  a five  hours’  journey  from  the  city  to  the  top  of  this  vol- 
canic mountain.  You  can  ride  almost  to  the  summit  on  horseback. 
Standing  upon  it  you  look  down  upon  Quito  in  the  valley  below. 
It  is  a city  of  white  adobe  houses  of  one  and  two  stories,  roofed 
with  red  tiles.  The  buildings  are  low  and  squatty;  they  stand 
along  narrow  streets  which  cross  each  other  at  right  angles. 
One  is  struck  by  the  large  numbers  of  convents,  monasteries, 
and  churches  among  them.  Fully  one-fourth  of  the  city  is  taken 
up  by  church  establishments,  and  there  are  as  many  priests  and 
nuns  to  the  square  foot  as  in  Rome.  Quito  is  altogether  Catho- 
lic. It  has  always  been  a supporter  of  the  Pope,  its  contribu- 
tions to  the  Church  having  been  so  numerous  that  it  has  received 
the  name  of  “The  Little  Mother  of  the  Pope.® 

The  government  is  still  largely  a union  of  church  and  state, 
and  the  priests  have  great  influence.  Catholicism  is  the  only  re- 
ligion, and  by  that  I do  not  mean  the  liberal  Catholicism  of  the 
United  States,  but  Spanish  Catholicism,  which  in  Ecuador  has  as 
many  evils  as  it  had  in  the  days  of  the  Inquisition.  The  country 
is  nominally  a republic,  but  voters  must  belong  to  the  Church, 
and  must  be  able  to  read  and  write.  Inasmuch  as  not  more  than 
one-tenth  of  the  people  can  read  or  write,  the  educated  whites 
control  the  elections. 

Ecuador  is  a land  of  revolutions.  Every  now  and  then  a new 
party  ousts  the  President  and  takes  possession,  going  through  the 
ceremony  of  an  election  afterwards  as  a matter  of  form.  The 
President  lives  at  Quito,  and  in  his  Cabinet  of  five  ministers,  one 
represents  the  Church.  In  addition  to  the  President  and  Cabinet, 
there  is  a Congress  of  two  Houses,  a system  of  courts,  and  a num- 
ber of  governors,  one  for  each  province,  who  are  appointed  and 
subject  to  removal  by  the  President. 


72  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Ecuador  has  a small  national  debt,  payment  of  the  interest  on 
which  has  been  suspended  since  March,  1896.  There  are  but  few 
direct  taxes.  Seventy  per  cent  of  the  government  income  is  de- 
rived from  customs  duties;  fifteen  per  cent  from  taxes  on  cacao, 
real  estate,  rum,  and  tobacco;  and  six  per  cent  from  salt  and  gun- 
powder monopolies.  Every  city  has  its  government  salt  ware- 
house, where  the  merchants  or  private  consumers  must  come  to 
buy,  and  where  they  pay  several  times  as  much  for  a very  poor 
article  as  they  would  if  salt  were  free.  I visited  such  a warehouse 
at  Babahoyo.  There  were  hundreds  of  tons  of  dirty  salt,  banked 
up  in  large  barn-like  rooms,  and  I saw  salt  weighed  out  to  pur- 
chasers on  a pair  of  American  scales.  The  salt  costs  the  govern- 
ment sixty  cents  a hundredweight,  and  its  price  at  the  warehouses 
is  almost  two  cents  a pound.  The  revenue  from  this  source 
amounts  to  about  $200,000  dollars  a j^ear. 

Ecuador  has  now  a public  school  system,  but,  as  I have  said, 
only  about  one-tenth  of  the  people  can  read  and  write.  There 
are  over  a thousand  primary  schools,  and  more  than  forty  schools 
of  higher  grades.  The  children  all  study  out  loud,  and  the  din 
is  as  great  as  in  the  schools  of  China.  Quito  has  a university, 
which  is  largely  managed  by  Jesuits,  and  there  are  colleges  at 
Cuenca  and  Guayaquil.  At  Guayaquil  there  are  two  newspapers, 
both  of  which  get  brief  cable  dispatches.  The  papers  are  sold 
by  newsboys  on  the  streets;  they  are  printed  on  old  American 
presses,  from  type  made  in  the  United  States;  but  their  paper 
and  ink  come  from  Germany.  Among  the  other  public  institu- 
tions are  a hospital  at  Guayaquil,  and  asylums  for  lunatics  and 
lepers  at  Quito. 

The  most  interesting  people  of  Ecuador  are  the  Indians,  who 
are  of  two  classes,  the  semi-civilized  and  the  savage.  Among  the 
latter  there  are  about  150,000  or  200,000  who  have  never  been 
subdued,  and  are  less  known  than  the  people  of  interior  Africa. 
Some  of  the  tribes  along  the  Napo  river,  which  flows  through 
eastern  Ecuador  into  the  Maranon,  use  poisoned  arrows,  which 
they  shoot  at  their  enemies  through  blow-guns  made  of  reeds. 
With  these  guns  they  can  send  the  arrows  long  distances,  and  a 
scratch  from  one  of  them  causes  death. 

Another  tribe  of  this  region,  the  Jivaros,  have  a curious 
method  of  preserving  the  heads  of  such  of  their  enemies  as  are 
killed  in  battle.  While  I write  these  words  a human  head,  cut 


INDIANS  WHO  CURE  AND  TRADE  IN  HUMAN  HEADS 


AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  THE  EQUATOR 


75 


off  just  below  the  chin,  lies  on  the  table  before  me.  Whether  it 
is  that  of  a woman  or  a man  I do  not  know.  The  hair  is  long, 
black,  and  silky,  and  so  thick  that  I can  hardly  grasp  it  all  in  my 
hand.  The  head  came  from  this  Indian  tribe.  It  was  offered  to 
me  as  a curiosity  for  $100  in  gold,  and  I can  buy  several  more 
at  the  same  price.  It  is  a gruesome  object,  not  larger  than  my 
fist,  but  the  features  are  as  perfect  as  in  life.  All  the  bones 
have  been  removed,  and  the  skin  has  shrunken  into  its  present 
shape.  It  is  black,  its  eyes  are  closed,  the  forehead  over  which 
the  dark  hair  hangs  is  low,  and  the  nose  is  almost  negro  in 
shape.  The  lips,  which  were  once  full  and  sensuous,  are  sewed 
together  with  long  cotton  strands,  which  hang  down  like  a ma- 
erame  fringe;  and  the  chin  has  a pronounced  dimple  in  it,  which 
may  have  been  admired  by  the  sweetheart  and  friends  of  the 
owner  of  the  head. 

It  is  now  against  the  laws  of  Ecuador  to  sell  these  heads,  but 
they  are  surreptitiously  offered  to  every  traveller.  How  they  are 
prepared  is  a mystery.  A red-whiskered  German  came  to  Quito 
some  years  ago  to  learn  the  process.  He  made  his  way  into  the 
wilds  of  the  eastern  Andes  and  disappeared.  Nothing  has  since 
been  heard  of  him,  but  it  is  said  that  about  six  months  after  he 
started  out  on  his  expedition  a head  beautifully  cured  was  brought 
in  for  sale.  Its  features  were  German  in  cast,  and  on  the  chin 
was  a beard  of  the  same  brick-dust  hue  as  that  of  the  German 
explorer. 

From  native  sources  I learn  that  the  Indians,  after  they  have 
removed  the  bones  of  the  skull,  cure  the  heads  by  filling  them 
with  hot  pebbles  and  passing  them  from  hand  to  hand,  pressing 
them  so  carefully  inward  that  in  shrinking  they  do  not  lose  their 
shape.  After  this  they  are  baked  in  the  sand  and  so  treated 
that  they  will  last  for  ages.  The  skin  of  the  neck  of  the  head 
before  me  is  about  one-sixth  of  an  inch  thick.  Its  pretty  ears 
are  about  the  size  of  a silver  quarter,  and  as  I push  back  its  hair 
and  look  at  its  closed  eyes  I almost  fear  that  they  will  open  and 
glare  at  me. 

Most  of  the  Indians  of  Ecuador  are  semi-civilized.  We  have, 
it  is  estimated,  about  260,000  Indians  in  the  United  States.  Ec- 
uador has  870,000  in  a total  population  of  1,250,000,  the  remainder 
of  the  inhabitants  being  made  up  of  about  100,000  whites  and 


76  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

about  300,000  of  mixed  races,  or  crosses  of  the  whites  and  negroes 
with  the  Indians. 

The  whites  are  the  ruling  class.  They  are  the  government  — the 
wealth,  the  brains — the  Ecuador  that  we  know  in  business  and 
in  trade.  The  Indians  who  constitute  the  working  population  are 
chiefly  Quichuas,  the  descendants  of  the  people  who  inhabited 
the  plateau  when  the  Spaniards  first  came.  They  are  thriftless, 
and  seem  to  have  little  spirit  or  ambition.  Their  highest  idea 
of  pleasure  is  plenty  of  liquor;  and  the  Ecuadorian  <(  smile ® is 
as  common  as  the  drink  of  America.  They  live  like  dogs,  and 
work  almost  from  birth  to  death.  They  till  the  soil,  carry  the 
freight  on  their  backs  up  and  down  the  mountains,  and  are  in 
fact  often  treated  more  like  cattle  than  the  animals  themselves. 
They  submit  to  the  whites,  and  are  accustomed  to  being  advised 
by  them.  Only  a comparatively  few  of  these  Indians  can  read 
or  write,  and  very  few  accumulate  property.  The  semi-civilized 
Indians  are  Catholics.  They  are  ruled  by  the  priests,  and  a large 
part  of  their  earnings  goes  to  the  Church. 

From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  the  people  of  Ecuador  will 
never  be  a large  consuming  class.  A suit  or  two  of  cotton 
clothes,  a little  rice  and  meat,  a cane  hut  in  the  lowlands  or  one 
of  adobe  brick  in  the  mountains,  will  suffice  for  most  of  them. 
It  will  be  long  before  Ecuador  can  have  a large  trade.  There 
are  no  accurate  trade  statistics,  and  it  is  consequently  difficult  to 
get  at  what  the  business  of  the  country  amounts  to.  It  probably 
ranges  - somewhere  between  $10,000,000  and  $15,000,000  a year, 
the  imports  being  less  than  the  exports.  There  are  practically 
no  factories,  hence  all  its  manufactured  goods  are  imported.  Ex- 
cept lumber,  lard,  kerosene,  flour,  and  barbed  wire  for  fences, 
which  are  largely  shipped  from  the  United  States,  most  of  the 
imports  come  from  Europe. 

Freight  rates  are  at  present  lower  to  France  or  England  than 
to  New  York,  and  the  banking  connections  are  altogether  in 
favor  of  London.  Many  American  articles  might  be  introduced 
into  the  country  if  our  people  would  study  the  markets,  accom- 
modate their  prices  to  European  competition,  and  so  pack  their 
goods  that  they  could  be  shipped  upon  the  backs  of  mules  to  the 
high  plateau  across  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  AMERICAN  DESERT 

A Land  of  Dry  Sand,  where  it  Rains  only  once  in  Seven  Years  — Skele- 
tons and  Mummies  — Travelling  Sand-Dunes,  which  are  always  on 
the  March  — Among  the  Ruins  of  the  Incas  — The  Old  City  of  Je- 
quetetec  — Cajamarca,  and  Atahualpa’s  Prison  Cell  which  he  filled 
with  Gold — The  Sunsets  of  the  Desert. 


left  Ecuador,  sailing  in  a Chilean  steamer  down  the 
Guayas  river  into  the  Pacific,  and  am  now  at  Pacas- 
mayo,  Peru.  I am  in  the  heart  of  the  great  South 
American  desert,  that  wonderful  strip  of  sand  which  extends 
from  the  borders  of  Ecuador  for  two  thousand  miles  southward, 
along  the  Pacific  coasts  of  Peru  and  Chile.  It  is  as  long  as  the 
distance  from  New  York  to  Salt  Lake  City,  and  is  in  no  place 
more  than  eighty  miles  wide. 

I have  seen  something  of  other  great  deserts  of  the  world. 
From  the  top  of  the  pyramids  I have  looked  over  the  sands  of 
Egypt;  I have  sailed  through  the  Indian  Ocean  and  the  Red 
Sea  along  the  deserts  of  Arabia,  and  on  the  Mount  of  Olives 
have  cast  my  eyes  over  the  bleak  wastes  between  Jerusalem  and 
the  Jordan;  I have  travelled  through  the  rocky  highlands  of  our 
arid  West,  and  have  had  my  eyes  dazzled  by  the  alkali  deserts 
of  Mexico;  but  so  far  I have  seen  nothing  like  this  South  Amer- 
ican desert. 

The  origin  of  the  Peruvian  desert  may  be  explained  by  stat- 
ing that  the  atmosphere  forms  the  clothing  of  the  earth,  and 
that  old  Mother  Earth  works  well  only  when  her  clothes  are  pe- 
riodically wet.  The  mountains  are  great  clothes-wringers,  which 
squeeze  the  rain  out  of  the  air,  and  by  the  difference  in  temper- 
ature cause  it  to  fall  on  the  land.  If  we  except  the  Himalayas, 
the  Andes  kiss  the  sky  at  higher  points  than  do  any  other 
mountains  on  the  globe.  The  chief  winds  which  sweep  over 
South  America  come  from  the  east.  I am  now  as  near  the 

(77) 


78  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

equator  as  I was  a few  weeks  ago,  when  I waded  through  trop- 
ical mud  amidst  the  dense  vegetation  of  the  Isthmus  of  Panama. 
The  sun  is  continually  drawing  up  vapor  from  the  sea,  but  the 
winds  are  carrying  it  northward  and  westward,  and  the  only 
breezes  we  have  are  the  cool  dry  winds  which  come  down  upon 
us  from  the  Andes.  These  winds  originally  started  out  from 
the  west  coast  of  Africa.  As  they  swept  over  the  Atlantic  they 
pumped  themselves  full  of  water,  and  when  they  reached  the 
coast  of  Brazil  they  were  well-loaded.  As  they  crossed  the  con- 
tinent, they  dropped  their  moisture,  feeding  the  great  rivers  of 
lower  South  America,  and  covering  the  land  with  tropical  ver- 
dure. They  dropped  more  and  more  as  they  climbed  up  the 
eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes,  until  they  reached  the  top,  where 
they  left  the  last  water  there  in  the  form  of  snow,  so  there  was 
nothing  left  to  make  fertile  the  western  slope. 

The  result  is  that  all  the  water  that  comes  down  to  the  west 
coast  is  from  the  melting  of  the  snows.  This  is  enough  to  form 
a river  here  and  there  through  the  desert;  and  it  is  in  the  val- 
leys of  such  rivers  that  one  finds  the  habitable  parts  of  the  coast 
regions  of  Peru  and  northern  Chile.  There  is  another  habitable 
region  farther  up  in  the  mountains,  between  the  two  ranges  of 
the  Andes  which  run  almost  parallel  in  this  part  of  South  Amer- 
ica; and  there  is  a wild  strip  on  the  eastern  slope,  which,  through 
the  agency  of  railroads,  will  some  time  be  one  of  the  most  pro- 
ductive parts  of  the  globe. 

One  of  the  wonders  of  the  desert  is  its  travelling  sand-hills. 
Just  back  of  the  shore  there  are  great  mounds,  containing  hun- 
dreds of  tons  of  fine  gray  sand,  which  is  always  moving  under 
the  influence  of  the  winds.  The  mounds  are  of  crescent  shape, 
and  their  little  grains,  not  so  large  as  a mustard  seed,  are  ever 
rolling  up,  up,  and  over  the  top  of  the  crescent,  going  always 
toward  the  north.  They  climb  over  hills,  they  make  their  way 
through  valleys,  as  uneasy  but  as  steady  in  their  march  as  the 
Wandering  Jew. 

Here,  at  Pacasmayo,  there  is  a railroad  which  crosses  the 
desert  on  its  way  up  the  Jequetepec  valley.  When  it  was  built 
the  engineers  thought  nothing  of  the  sand-hills,  which  were  then 
far  to  the  southward.  The  sands,  however,  are  no  respecters  of 
railroads.  They  moved  onward,  and  swallowed  up  the  track,  so 
that  it  had  to  be  taken  up  and  relaid  on  the  other  side  of  them. 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  AMERICAN  DESERT 


79 


In  a ride  on  a hand-car  tip  the  valley  I saw  one  place  where  a 
mound  of  sand  containing  some  thousand  of  tons  was  encroach- 
ing upon  the  track.  A stream  of  water  from  the  river  had  been 
let  in  through  a ditch  at  the  side  in  a vain  attempt  to  carry  it 
away,  and  the  men  were  at  work  shovelling  the  sand  from  the 
rails.  As  I passed  I saw  the  sand  coming  down  in  a stream  like 
thick  molasses,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  almost  im- 
possible to  conquer  it. 

I took  photographs  of  some  of  the  moving  hills.  I climbed  to 
the  top  of  one  of  them  fearing  that  I might  sink  down  to  my 
neck  in  it,  but  discovered  that  the  sand  was  so  compact  that  even 
my  shoes  were  not  covered.  Some  of  the  sand-hills  are  stopped 
on  their  course  by  the  algoroba  bushes,  which  grow  here  and 
there  in  the  desert.  The  sand  gathers  about  the  bushes,  almost 
covering  them,  and  forming  hills  topped  with  patches  of  green. 

The  chief  animals  used  to  carry  freight  in  the  desert  are 
donkeys,  mules,  and  horses;  the  last  named  are  sometimes  used 
for  riding.  The  only  roads  are  bridle-paths,  which  are  often 
covered  up  by  the  sands.  This  makes  travelling  in  the  desert 
very  dangerous.  No  stranger  does  well  to  attempt  to  cross  it 
alone.  He  must  have  a guide,  who  will  direct  his  course  by  the 
stars  at  night  and  by  the  wind  during  the  day.  I can  imagine 
no  place  where  it  would  be  so  terrible  to  lose  one’s  bearings. 
You  might  wander  about  for  days  without  finding  anything  to 
eat  or  drink.  You  would  pass  by  the  skeletons  of  animals  which 
had  been  lost  and  died  there,  and,  perhaps,  see  the  bodies  of 
some  at  which  the  buzzards  were  still  picking.  I passed  the  bones 
of  men,  donkeys,  and  cattle,  and  at  one  point  stopped  to  rest  on 
a pile  of  skeletons  which  had  been  dug  from  an  Inca  ruin  and 
left  there  to  bleach. 

It  is  an  odd  thing  that  there  are  no  bad  smells  on  the  desert. 
Flesh  does  not  decay,  for  the  air  is  so  dry  that  it  sucks  the  juices 
out  of  everything  left  upon  the  sand.  In  the  northern  part  of 
Peru  is  the  valley  of  the  Piura  river.  Not  long  since  a traveller, 
going  through  this  valley,  saw  in  the  cemetery  an  open  coffin, 
and  in  it  the  body  of  a dead  priest  clothed  in  a purple  shirt  and 
white  cotton  drawers.  The  tropical  sun  was  beating  down  upon 
the  corpse,  and  the  traveller,  who  was  a devout  Catholic,  proposed 
to  bury  it,  expressing  great  indignation  that  one  of  the  fathers 
should  be  so  treated.  The  priest  of  the  town,  however,  refused 


8o  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  permit  it,  saying:  <(  My  dear  sir,  you  do  not  understand.  That  is 
the  body  of  my  friend,  which  I have  put  out  there  to  dry,  so  that 
I may  send  him  in  good  condition  to  his  family  in  Guayaquil.” 

It  is  owing  to  this  dryness  of  the  air  that  the  mummies  of 
Peru  are  found  in  good  preservation.  There  are  plenty  of  them 
in  the  desert,  and,  in  excavating  the  ruined  cities  which  were  in 
existence  when  the  Spaniards  came,  some  of  them  are  dug  up 
every  now  and  then.  The  mummies  are  usually  found  in  a sit- 
ting posture,  wrapped  in  cloth  and  tied  up  with  strings. 

All  about  Pacasmayo  I noticed  vestiges  of  the  Incas.  They 
are  to  be  found  throughout  the  coast  region  of  Peru,  as  well  as 
on  the  highlands.  Among  the  most  remarkable  near  here  are 
the  ruins  of  the  old  city  of  Jequetepec,  which  I visited.  I doubt 
whether  the  reader  has  ever  heard  of  them.  Still,  they  are  the 
remains  of  what  was  once  a populous  city.  They  are  situated 
high  above  and  far  back  from  the  irrigated  lands  along  the  Je- 
quetepec river.  Near  them  are  the  remains  of  Inca  fortifications, 
great  mounds  of  sun-dried  bricks,  about  200  feet  high. 

These  ruins  are  in  the  heart  of  the  desert.  They  cover  sev- 
eral hundred  acres;  and  the  walls,  in  many  places  higher  than 
one’s  head,  still  stand,  while  within  them  the  outlines  of  the  houses 
can  be  plainly  seen.  In  the  centre  of  the  city  is  a large  mound, 
probably  the  site  of  an  Inca  palace  or  of  a temple  devoted  to  the 
vestal  virgins  of  the  snn.  I rode  my  horse  up  to  the  top  of  this 
mound,  and  in  my  mind’s  eye  could  easily  re-people  the  ruined 
streets  below  me.  All  about  were  bits  of  pottery,  the  broken 
dishes  of  that  great  people  of  the  past.  Here  were  the  outlines 
of  a square,  and  there  the  remains  of  a large  house,  which  may 
have  been  the  residence  of  one  of  the  rich  nobility  from  whom 
the  Spaniards  stole  their  gold. 

In  my  travels  over  the  desert  I saw  the  ruins  of  many  other 
towns.  In  that  acme  of  civilization,  which  makes  every  rood  of 
earth  maintain  its  man,  the  Indians  were  far  superior  to  the 
Spaniards.  When  Pizarro  came,  the  Inca  king  had,  it  is  estimated, 
about  40,000,000  subjects.  Peru  was  far  more  thickly  populated 
then  than  now,  and  it  undoubtedly  had  a higher  state  of  civiliza- 
tion. Most  of  the  people  then  lived  on  the  high  plateau  between 
the  two  ranges  of  the  Andes,  but  they  irrigated  vast  regions  of 
the  coast  desert;  and  even  the  mountain  slopes  were  turned  into 
farms.  They  had  large  cities  and  magnificent  roads. 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  AMERICAN  DESERT 


81 


Not  far  back  from  the  coast  across  the  Andes  is  the  town  of 
Cajamarca,  where,  more  than  three  and  a half  centuries  ago,  the 
Inca  king,  Atahualpa,  received  the  Spanish  freebooter  Pizarro,  and 
was  treacherously  captured  by  him.  When  Pizarro  entered  the 
country,  with  a handful  of  soldiers  and  a few  horses,  he  was 
kindly  treated  by  the  Indians.  Atahualpa  heard  of  his  coming, 
and  met  him  at  Cajamarca.  Pizarro  asked  him  to  dine  with  him, 
and  when  Atahualpa  came  unarmed  into  the  palace  which  Pizarro 
by  his  favor  was  occupying,  Pizarro  closed  the  doors  and  captured 
him,  while  the  Spanish  soldiers  slaughtered  his  attendants.  The 
person  of  the  Inca  king  was  so  sacred  that  the  event  paralyzed 
the  nation,  and  at  Atahualpa’s  request  war  was  not  made.  Then 
Atahualpa  said  that  if  Pizarro  would  release  him  he  would  fill 
the  room  in  the  palace  in  which  he  was  confined  with  gold  to  a 
point  as  high  as  he  could  reach.  This  was  agreed  to,  and  for 
several  weeks  gold  was  brought  in  great  loads  from  all  parts  of 
Peru.  The  room  was  seventeen  feet  long  by  twenty  feet  wide, 
and  the  point  up  to  which  it  was  to  be  filled  was  designated  by 
a red  mark  nine  feet  above  the  floor.  The  gold  was  in  all  sorts 
of  shapes.  Some  of  it  was  in  gold  plates  torn  from  the  Temple 
of  the  Sun  at  Cuzco.  There  was  a variety  of  golden  basins, 
drinking-cups,  and  dishes.  There  were  vases  of  all  kinds,  and 
many  pieces  of  beautifully  carved  workmanship.  When  the  room 
was  almost  filled  up  to  the  mark  indicated,  Pizarro  ordered  the 
Indian  goldsmiths  to  melt  the  whole  into  ingots,  and  there  was 
so  much  gold  that  they  worked  at  it  day  and  night  for  a month. 
Then  Pizarro  refused  to  let  Atahualpa  go,  and  after  a mock  trial 
put  him  to  death.  There  is  a stone  in  Cajamarca  which  the  In- 
dians say  is  stained  with  Atahualpa’s  blood. 

Notwithstanding  that  this  part  of  the  Pacific  coast  has  had 
no  rain  for  a long  time,  the  people  are  expecting  it  this  year. 
The  reason  for  this  expectation  is  that  it  rains  almost  regularly 
every  seven  years  in  some  parts  of  the  desert.  The  last  big 
shower  was  in  1891;  there  was  a shower  seven  years  before  that; 
and  I am  told  that  about  every  seven,  eight,  or  nine  years  there 
is  a period,  of  a week  or  more,  during  which  the  rain  falls  in 
bucketfuls.  As  the  water  touches  the  earth,  vegetation  springs 
up.  After  a day  and  a night  the  desert  becomes  green.  Soon 
great  fields  of  grass  spring  up,  and  flowers  by  myriads  appear  in 
blossom.  There  are  plants  which  we  in  the  North  have  only 


82  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

in  hot-houses,  and  flowers  more  brilliant  than  any  we  know  of. 
This  vegetation  oftens  lasts  but  a few  days.  It  has,  however, 
been  known  to  flourish  for  a month ; and  at  its  height  the  cattle 
are  driven  from  the  irrigated  valleys  to  the  desert  to  feed.  Seeds 
of  all  sorts  of  plants,  trees,  and  shrubs,  seem  to  keep  perfectly  in 
the  hot,  dry  sand,  and  to  be  ready  to  leap  into  life  when  touched 
with  moisture.  I doubt,  indeed,  if  a more  fertile  soil  than  that 
of  the  desert  of  Peru  exists  anywhere.  It  seems  to  be  as  fat  as 
the  valley  of  the  Nile,  and  where  it  can  be  irrigated  it  usually 
produces  two  crops  a year.  In  the  irrigated  valleys  planting 
goes  on  all  the  year  round,  and  I saw  corn  being  dropped  in 
flelds  adjoining  those  in  which  it  was  almost  ripe  enough  for 
husking. 

I have  never  been  in  a land  that  has  so  many  fruits.  We 
had  nine  different  kinds  at  our  last  dinner,  all  of  which  were 
raised  here.  There  are  oranges,  bananas,  limes,  and  lemons, 
growing  almost  side  by  side  with  peaches,  apples,  and  pears. 
There  are  grapes  as  luscious  as  those  of  California;  cherries, 
plums,  dates,  and  figs.  There  are  watermelons  and  musk  melons, 
guavas  and  mangoes.  We  have  the  alligator  pear,  which  has  a 
flesh  that  looks  and  tastes  not  unlike  fresh  butter,  and  is  eaten 
with  salt.  Then  there  are  the  palta,  the  tumbo,  and  the  papaya, 
and  in  some  places  cocoanut  and  other  species  of  palm  trees. 
In  every  little  town  and  at  every  railroad  station  are  women 
peddling  fruit,  and  at  such  prices  that  for  a few  cents  one  can 
buy  all  one  can  eat.  The  coffee  I drink  is  made  from  berries 
which  come  from  a plantation  near  by,  and  the  sugar  with  which 
it  is  sweetened  is  ground  out  on  a sugar  plantation  not  ten  miles 
away. 

But  I despair  of  giving  a picture  of  these  little  irrigated  val- 
leys of  Peru.  Nature  has  here  painted  things  in  a way  differ- 
ent from  that  which  she  has  employed  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.  Now  you  imagine  yourself  in  Egypt;  at  the  next  step 
you  think  of  the  highlands  of  Mexico;  and  again  of  southern 
California  or  of  the  Pacific  coast  of  Asia.  Even  the  sky  is  dif- 
ferent. Every  evening  the  sun  sets  in  the  waters  in  a blaze  of 
colour  such  as  I have  never  seen  elsewhere.  The  tints  are  more 
gorgeous  than  those  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  more  soft  and  beauti- 
ful than  the  skies  of  Greece.  Such  colours  have  never  been  put 
upon  canvas,  and  such  scenic  effects  are  unknown  in  our  part 


ON  THE  GREAT  SOUTH  AMERICAN  DESERT 


83 


of  the  world.  The  sun  at  its  setting  looks  twice  as  large  in 
the  clear  air  as  at  home,  and  as  it  sinks  down  toward  the  sea 
the  waters  seem  to  pull  it  to  their  surface  so  that  it  assumes  the 
form  of  a balloon,  the  lower  end  of  which  is  slowly  submerged. 
A moment  later  the  top  spreads  out,  and  you  have  a great  golden 
dome  resting  on  the  dark  blue  horizon.  It  sinks  lower,  and  the 
waters  then  turn  to  gold  and  silver,  and  the  most  delicate  tints 
of  purple  and  red,  which  match  the  soft,  bright  colours  of  the  sky. 
Last  night,  just  before  the  sun  went  down,  we  had  double  rain- 
bows in  the  Andes,  although  there  was  no  sign  of  rain  on  the 
coast.  The  air  is  clear,  and  although  it  is  now  mid-summer, 
the  heat  is  not  oppressive,  for  we  have  a steady  breeze  every 
afternoon. 


A FIELD  OF  SUGAR  CANE 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  IRRIGATED  VALLEYS  OF  PERU 

A Land  where  Cotton  grows  on  Trees  and  is  Red  in  Colour  — The  big 
Sugar  Plantations,  and  how  they  are  Managed — Peruvian  Labour 
and  Wages  — A Look  at  the  Peons  and  their  Homes. 

though  most  of  the  people  of  Peru  live  on  the  high 
tableland  beyond  the  coast  range  of  the  Andes,  the 
country,  as  we  know  it,  is  chiefly  confined  to  the  coast. 
It  is  made  tip  almost  wholly  of  little  irrigated  valleys,  fed  by  the 
snow-water  rivers  on  their  way  from  the  mountains  through  the 
desert  to  the  sea.  At  the  mouths  of  such  rivers  are  the  chief 
ports,  and  in  the  interior  are  numerous  villages  and  towns. 
Lima,  the  capital,  lies  in  the  valley  of  the  Rimac  river.  Paita, 
at  the  north,  is  the  port  for  the  valley  of  the  Piura  river,  while 
Pacasmayo,  where  I am  now  writing,  is  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Jequetepec. 

At  the  different  ports  of  northern  Peru  our  steamer  took  on 
thousands  of  bags  of  rice,  boxes  of  tobacco,  and  quantities  of 
skins  and  hides.  At  Paita  we  received  a number  of  bales  of  red 
cotton,  which  came  from  the  Piura  valley,  the  chief  cotton- 
raising section  of  Peru.  Indeed,  the  irrigated  lands  of  the  desert 
seem  to  be  the  natural  home  of  the  cotton  plant,  which  grows 
wild  here,  and  often  reaches  the  size  of  a small  tree.  Some  of 
these  trees,  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  high,  have  produced  cot- 
ton from  ten  to  twenty  years.  There  is  in  Pacasmayo  an  hotel 
in  the  back-yard  of  which  is  a cotton  tree  from  which,  so  the 
landlord  says,  comes  enough  cotton  annually  to  pay  for  all  the 
eggs  consumed  in  the  hotel. 

The  native  Peruvian  cotton  is  not  white,  like  ours.  It  is  of 
different  shades  of  brown,  some  being  almost  red  in  colour.  The 
finest  quality  is  raised  in  the  Piura  valley,  the  best  yields  coming 
after  the  seventh  year’s  rain.  At  such  times  the  rivers  flood  the 
(84) 


THE  IRRIGATED  VALLEYS  OF  PERU 


85 


country,  bringing  down  rich  slime  from  the  mountains,  and  when 
the  rains  have  ceased  everyone  starts  to  plant  cotton.  The  de- 
mand for  labour  is  such  that  many  people  go  there  for  work,  the 
wages  paid  being  from  twenty-five  to  thirty  cents  for  a day  of 
ten  hours. 

Raising  cotton  in  Peru  may  be  called  the  luxury  of  agricul- 
ture. The  soil  is  so  rich  that  the  plants  do  not  need  manure  or 
tillage.  The  ground  is  not  ploughed;  holes  for  the  cotton-seeds 
are  simply  dug  with  a spade,  and  the  seeds  are  covered  up.  They 
soon  sprout,  and  from  one  planting  the  farmers  are  sure  of  three 
good  crops  within  the  next  year  or  so,  the  first  crop  maturing  in 
nine  months.  After  these  three  crops,  there  are  irregular  crops 
from  the  same  plant  or  tree  for  a number  of  years.  All  that  is 
necessary  is  to  keep  them  trimmed,  and  to  pick  the  cotton.  In 
the  lands  along  the  river,  which  can  be  irrigated,  the  crops  are 
regular,  and  from  two  to  three  crops  a year  are  common.  The 
cotton  ripens,  in  fact,  throughout  most  of  the  year,  and  you  see 
buds,  blossoms,  and  cotton- wool  on  the  same  tree  at  the  same 
time.  In  the  irrigated  lands  the  yield  is  from  300  to  400  pounds 
to  the  acre.  It  is  estimated  that  the  growing  and  baling  cost 
about  a dollar  in  gold  (4  shillings  sterling)  per  bale. 

Peruvian  cotton  is  very  valuable.  It  brings  thirteen  cents  a 
pound  at  present,  and  has  brought  as  high  as  twenty-three  cents. 
It  is  especially  valuable  because  it  can  be  used  as  wool.  Its 
fibre  is  so  much  more  like  that  of  wool  than  cotton,  that  when 
ginned  it  would  easily  pass  for  wool.  It  is  used  by  the  manu- 
facturers of  hats,  hosiery,  and  underwear,  to  mix  with  wool,  giv- 
ing the  articles  into  which  it  goes  a finer  lustre  and  a better 
finish,  and  rendering  them  less  liable  to  shrink.  The  fibre  is 
longer  than  that  of  any  other  cotton  except  the  Sea  Island  and 
the  Egyptian;  but  the  area  in  which  it  will  grow  is  compara- 
tively small. 

The  country  scenes  of  Peru  are  unlike  those  of  any  other 
part  of  the  world.  Let  us  look  at  some  of  them,  as  we  ride 
through  the  valley  of  the  Jequetepec  to  the  foothills  of  the 
Andes.  We  go  on  a railroad  built  by  an  American  a few 
decades  ago,  but  now  owned  by  an  English  syndicate,  the  Peru- 
vian corporation.  The  cars  came  from  the  Eastern  States,  the 
ties  from  Oregon.  The  telegraph  poles  are  discarded  rails,  to 
which  supports  have  been  bolted  to  bear  the  wires;  iron  is  used 
S.  A.— 6 


86  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

on  account  of  the  ants.  Our  conductor  is  a little  Peruvian  in  a 
linen  suit,  and  we  have  another  official  on  board  in  the  travelling 
postmaster,  who  sells  stamps,  takes  up  the  letters  from  the  various 
small  villages  and  estates  as  we  stop,  and  hands  out  mail  to  the 
people  who  come  to  the  train. 

Notice  the  little  farms  we  are  passing.  The  fields  are  fenced 
in  with  thick  walls  of  mud  as  high  as  your  waist,  and  irrigating 
ditches  carry  sparkling  water  here  and  there  through  them. 
The  water  comes  from  the  river,  but  the  irrigating  is  carelessly 
done,  and  much  water  goes  to  waste.  There  is  a rice  field,  rice 
being  one  of  the  best-paying  crops  in  this  part  of  Peru;  and 
there  are  mills  at  Pacastnayo  where  the  rice  is  hulled,  polished, 
and  prepared  for  shipment. 

We  go  through  large  sugar  plantations.  These  are  owned  by 
foreigners,  and  many  of  them  are  managed  on  a magnificent 
scale.  We  pass  one  factory  which  makes  5,000  tons  of  sugar 
annually.  The  buildings  on  it  have  cost  over  $1,000,000;  its  ma- 
chinery was  imported  from  Philadelphia.  We  see  steam  ploughs, 
harrows,  and  cultivators  at  work  in  the  fields,  and  notice  that 
the  cane  is  hauled  to  the  factories  by  steam-engines,  over  a port- 
able railroad.  More  than  100,000  tons  of  sugar  are  now  annually 
produced  in  Peru.  There  are,  moreover,  more  than  sixty  fac- 
tories scattered  through  the  irrigated  valleys  of  the  coast  desert, 
and  upwards  of  $20,000,000  is  employed  in  the  business. 

The  labour  comes  from  the  native  Peruvian  Indian,  who  re- 
ceives from  twenty-five  to  forty  cents  a day  for  his  work.  He 
is  given  a house  on  his  master’s  plantation,  and  is  furnished  with 
a pound  of  meat  and  two  pounds  of  rice  as  his  daily  rations. 
He  is  also  allowed  to  run  up  bills  at  the  plantation  stores,  and 
his  habits  and  temperament  are  such  that  he  is  always  in  debt. 

I wish  I could  show  our  American  farm-hands  how  the  Peru- 
vian workmen  are  housed.  I visited  one  of  their  homes  to-day, 
a sample  of  thousands  all  over  Peru.  It  was  merely  a hut  made 
of  canes  so  put  together  that  you  could  see  out  of  the  cracks  on 
all  sides.  The  floor  was  mother  earth,  the  roof  was  of  reeds, 
being  needed  only  to  keep  out  the  sun.  The  house  had  but  one 
room  about  eighteen  feet  square.  A wooden  platform  about  as 
high  as  one’s  knees  in  one  corner  of  the  room  furnished  a sleeping- 
place  for  the  heads  of  the  family,  while  the  children  slept  on  the 
floor.  In  another  corner  was  the  family  cook -stove  — two  stones 


THE  IRRIGATED  VALLEYS  OF  PERU 


87 


just  wide  enough  apart  to  allow  an  earthen  cooking-pot  to  rest 
upon  them.  There  was  no  window,  no  chimney,  and,  except  a 
soap  box,  no  furniture.  In  the  house  a family  of  six  were  living, 
and  I doubt  not  they  deemed  themselves  happy.  Their  chickens 
and  goats  lived  with  them ; and  all  they  wanted  was  enough  to 
eat  and  drink,  and  a chance  to  get  drunk  now  and  then.  Like 
all  of  their  kind,  they  have  no  ambition  whatever,  and  are  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  their  lot. 

I asked  some  questions  as  to  food  and  hours  of  work.  On 
rising  they  take  a glass  of  pisco,  or  native  whiskey,  and  go  to 
work  without  breakfast.  This  is  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning. 
The  whiskey  serves  them  until  eleven  a.  m.,  when  they  knock  off 
for  lunch,  or  breakfast.  This  usually  consists  of  a stew  of  goat’s 
meat  and  rice.  At  one  o’clock  they  go  back  to  work,  and  at 
five  they  stop  for  the  day.  When  they  get  home  they  have 
another  stew  of  meat  and  rice,  and  perhaps  a piece  or  more  of 
bread.  After  dinner  they  sit  about  and  talk,  and  at  eight  or 
nine  o’clock  lie  down  in  the  clothes  which  they  have  worn  all 
day,  and  go  to  sleep. 

The  working  classes  of  Peru  have  no  education,  and  not  one 
in  a hundred  of  them  can  read.  Their  clothes  cost  them  almost 
nothing.  The  men  wear  a pair  of  cotton  trousers,  a cotton  shirt, 
a pair  of  leather  sandals,  and  a straw  hat.  The  women  wear 
cotton  dresses  and  straw  hats,  with  black  woollen  shawls  for  Sun- 
days and  feast  days.  The  men  have  also  ponchos  — the  blankets 
and  overcoats  of  South  America.  These  are  merely  blankets 
with  a short  slit  in  the  middle  large  enough  to  slip  the  head 
through.  They  are  worn  by  the  better  classes  as  well  as  by  the 
poor,  and  are  costly  or  otherwise  according  to  the  purse  of  the 
owner. 

The  fine  farm  machinery  of  which  I have  written  is  to  be 
found  only  on  the  large  estates.  The  native  Peruvians  do  their 
work  in  the  rudest  way.  They  use  ploughs  of  wood,  tipped  with 
iron,  with  oxen  as  the  motive  power.  The  Indian  holds  the 
plough  with  one  hand  and  drives  with  a goad,  as  the  Palestine 
farmers  did  in  the  days  of  Abraham. 


CHAPTER  X 


AN  HOUR  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 


The  Romantic  career  of  a South  American  statesman  — How  he  fought 

HIS  WAY  THROUGH  REVOLUTION  TO  POWER  — HlS  NARROW  ESCAPE  IN  A 
WOMAN’S  CLOTHES  — THE  RESOURCES  OF  PERU ONE  OF  THE  RICHEST 

Countries  in  the  World,  with  the  poorest  Inhabitants  — Peru’s 
War  with  Chile,  and  how  her  Treasure  was  Stolen. 

t was  in  company  with  the  secretary  of  the  American 
legation  that  I called  upon  Nicolas  de  Pierola,  the  Presi- 
dent of  Peru.  His  Excellency  had  appointed  two  p.  m. 
for  my  audience,  and  at  that  hour  we  entered  the  long  one-story 
building  which  forms  the  White  House  and  the  government 
offices  of  the  Republic.  Soldiers  in  uniforms  of  white  duck,  with 
rifles  at  their  sides,  were  at  the  door,  and  as  we  passed  in  we  went 
by  a company  of  infantry  ready  for  immediate  action  in  case  of 
revolution.  Additional  rifles  stood  in  racks  against  the  walls,  and 
we  seemed  to  be  in  a fortress  rather  than  in  the  capitol  building 
of  a country  supposed  to  be  ruled  by  the  people. 

Peru  is  a land  of  revolutions.  Its  present  executive  is  a rev- 
olutionist, who  gained  his  position  after  months  of  hard  fighting. 
In  the  houses  and  churches  of  Lima  you  may  still  see  the  holes 
where  the  cannon-balls  of  his  soldiers  went  crashing  through. 
He  besieged  the  city,  and  for  days  his  army  fought  with  that  of 
the  former  President  in  the  heart  of  Lima.  They  had  Gatling 
guns  trained  upon  one  another,  and  swept  the  streets  with  them. 
The  dead  were  carried  out  each  morning  by  the  cartload,  and 
there  were  so  many  dead  horses  that  they  could  not  be  buried, 
but  were  sprinkled  with  coal-oil  and  burned.  The  end  of  the 
revolution  was  the  deposition  of  the  old  president  Caceres,  and 
the  election  of  the  present  executive. 

President  Pierola’s  career  is  a typical  one.  It  illustrates  the 
ups  and  downs  of  South  American  politics,  and  shows  us  how 
(88) 


AN  HOUR  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 


89 


republics  are  managed  below  the  Caribbean  Sea.  Nicolas  de 
Pierola  is  the  son  of  a Peruvian  scientist,  his  father  having  been 
a co-worker  with  Alexander  von  Humboldt,  Sir  Humphry  Davy, 
and  Von  Tschudi,  the  noted  Austrian  philosopher  and  traveller. 
Pierola  was  born  in  southern  Peru.  He  was  educated  in  Paris, 
where  he  married  the  granddaughter  of  Iturbide,  the  unfortunate 
Emperor  of  Mexico.  On  returning  to  Peru  at  the  close  of  his 
school  days,  he  began  his  life  work  in  Lima  as  an  editor  sup- 
porting the  President.  A revolution  overturned  the  administra- 


THE  "WHITE  HOUSE,"  LIMA.  PERU 

tion,  and  Pierola  was  banished.  This  revolution  was  succeeded 
by  another,  with  one  of  Pierola’s  friends  at  its  head,  and  the 
young  man  was  brought  back  to  the  capital  and  made  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury.  He  had  hardly  received  his  seal  before  the 
President  who  had  been  last  driven  out  appeared  before  Lima 
with  another  army,  and  again  Pierola  and  the  executive  whom 
he  had  been  supporting  had  to  leave.  Then  the  war  with  Chile 
came  on,  and  Pierola  w7as  called  back  to  be  one  of  the  generals 
of  the  Peruvian  army.  His  soldiers  were  defeated,  but,  the 


90  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

President  having  fled  the  country,  he  became  dictator.  After  a 
short  time,  however,  the  Chileans  conquered,  and  deposed  Pier- 
ola.  He  was  ordered  to  leave  the  country,  and  fled  to  France. 

Later  on,  Caceres,  who  had  been  elected  President,  became 
very  unpopular,  and  Pierola  returned  to  raise  a revolution  against 
him.  Caceres  accused  him  of  treason;  he  concealed  some  guns 
on  Pierola’s  estate,  and  based  his  charge  upon  their  discovery  by 
the  soldiers  sent  to  find  them.  Pierola  was  arrested,  brought 
to  Lima,  and  confined  in  the  palace.  One  day  a French  lady 


NICOLAS  DE  PIEROLA.  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 

called  to  see  him.  She  was  admitted,  and  the  two  were  left 
alone  for  a time  in  Pierola’s  cell.  During  this  time  they  changed 
clothes,  and  an  hour  or  so  after  it  was  supposed  the  lady  had  de- 
parted, the  guards  found  that  Pierola  had  passed  out  instead,  and 
that  all  that  was  left  of  him  were  his  brown  whiskers,  which  he 
had  shaved  off  in  order  to  perfect  his  disguise. 

Pierola  fled  to  the  mountains,  raised  an  army,  and  declared 
war.  He  skirmished  about  the  country  for  some  time,  and  then 
attacked  Lima.  After  three  days’  fighting  President  Caceras  was 


AN  HOUR  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 


91 


forced  out  of  office,  and  a provisional  governor  was  appointed 
until  an  election  could  be  held.  At  the  election  Pierola  was 
chosen  President  by  an  overwhelming  majority. 

Thus  trained  in  revolutions,  the  President  is  too  good  a sol- 
dier to  sleep  upon  his  arms.  He  does  not  go  about  without 
euards,  and  during:  our  visit  to  his  residence  we  found  soldiers 
everywhere  present.  As  we  went  on  through  the  palace,  going 
through  one  room  after  another,  we  passed  many  officers  in  uni- 
form, until  we  met  the  President’s  private  secretary,  who  told  us 
that  the  palace,  the  President,  and  himself  were  at  my  disposal, 
and  that  His  Excellency  would  receive  me  at  once. 

He  then  went  out,  and  a moment  later  he  ushered  us  into  a 
large  hall  furnished  not  unlike  one  of  the  reception-rooms  in  the 
State  Department  at  Washington.  In  the  centre  of  the  room 
stood  a straight,  handsome  man  with  a military  bearing.  It  was 
Nicolas  de  Pierola,  President  of  Peru.  He  stepped  towards  us  as 
we  came  in  and  shook  hands  with  me  on  my  presentation.  After 
we  were  seated  he  told  me  that  he  was  glad  to  have  an  Ameri- 
can journalist  come  to  Peru,  saying  he  felt  that  his  country  was 
not  properlv  known  in  North  America.  He  then  went  on  to  give 
me  a description  of  the  mineral  and  agricultural  possibilities  of 
Peru,  describing  its  resources  and  the  enterprises  which  are  under 
way  to  develop  them.  He  said  he  was  anxious  to  see  an  in- 
creased trade  between  Peru  and  the  United  States,  and  that  he 
hoped  one  of  the  Trans-Isthmian  canals  would  be  pushed  to  its 
completion  as  a means  to  that  end.  He  said  he  was  in  thorough 
accord  with  the  Monroe  Doctrine,  and  that  he  believed  the  re- 
publics of  this  hemisphere  should  aid  and  defend  one  another  in 
protecting  their  rights  as  free  governments. 

The  resources  of  Peru  are  much  greater  than  is  generally  sup- 
posed. Peru  is  about  one-eighth  the  size  of  the  United  States;  it 
would  almost  make  nine  states  of  the  size  of  New  York;  and  in 
it  are  vast  areas  of  good  land.  In  addition  to  the  coast  desert, 
with  its  numerous  irrigated  valleys,  there  are  extensive  pastures 
in  the  highlands;  and  over  the  mountains  on  the  eastern  slopes 
are  valleys  which  will  produce  as  fine  coffee  as  any  in  the  mar- 
ket. The  Peruvian  corporation,  an  English  syndicate,  has  a grant 
of  5,000.000  acres  of  coffee  land  in  this  region,  and  other  com- 
panies are  setting  out  coffee  trees.  Parts  of  Peru  are  well  adapted 
to  the  raising  of  the  cacao,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  province  of 


92 


SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


Cuzco,  in  which  there  are  nine  estates,  having  altogether  27,000,000 
cacao  trees,  or  an  average  of  300,000  each.  The  mines  of  Peru 
will  be  treated  of  further  on.  They  include  both  gold  and  silver 
mines,  some  of  them  being  exceedingly  rich.  In  northern  Peru, 
along  the  coast,  are  petroleum  fields  now  being  worked;  and  rail- 
roads have  been  projected  to  tap  valuable  anthracite  coal  deposits 
which  lie  across  the  coast  range  of  the  Andes. 

From  this  description  it  might.  be  thought  that  the  Peruvians 
were  one  of  the  richest  peoples  of  South  America,  whereas  they  are 
among  the  poorest.  The  small  class  of  aristocrats,  who  were  so 
wealthy  before  the  war-  with  Chile,  are  now  comparatively  poor; 
and  the  vast  majority  of  the  people  were  never  anything  else. 
Peru  has  about  3,000,000  people,  not  more  than  Greater  New 
York.  Of  these  57  per  cent  are  pure  Indians,  about  23  per  cent 
are  of  the  mixed  race,  and  the  remainder  are  whites.  Not  one 
Peruvian  in  five  is  pure  white,  yet  the  whites  have  most  of  the 
land,  and  the  others  work  for  them.  Three  centuries  ago  the 
Spaniards  subjugated  the  Indians  and  made  them  slaves.  They 
worked  them  in  the  mines,  and  from  their  labour  Spain  became 
rich.  The  Spaniards  carried  away  tons  of  gold  and  silver,  taking 
from  one  Inca  temple  alone  42.000  pounds  of  gold  and  82,000 
pounds  of  silver.  When  the  gold  mines  were  partially  exhausted, 
they  tapped  the  silver  mines  of  Cerro  de  Pasco  and  other  places, 
out  of  which  came  so  much  wealth  that  one  of  the  viceroys  was 
able  to  ride  through  Lima  from  the  palace  to  the  cathedral  over 
a path  paved  with  ingots  of  silver.  The  horse  upon  which  he 
sat  was  shod  with  gold,  and,  if  tradition  is  to  be  believed,  every 
hair  of  its  mane  and  tail  was  strung  with  pearls. 

Later  on  the  wealth  of  the  guano  islands  was  added  to  that 
of  the  mines,  and  Peru  received  hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars 
from  her  manure  piles.  Then  the  nitrate  deposits  were  discov- 
ered, and  other  millions  came.  The  bulk  of  all  this  money  went 
to  a few  of  the  governing  class  and  their  friends,  and  the  phrase, 
(<  as  rich  as  a Peruvian, w was  current  in  South  America. 

Such  was  the  situation  when  the  Chileans  turned  their  covet- 
ous eyes  to  the  north.  They  were  poor,  but  brave  and  strong, 
and  nationally  without  a conscience.  They  trumped  up  a bound- 
ary line  as  an  excuse  for  war,  and  invaded  Peru.  They  had  an 
army  of  25,000  men,  with  which  they  overran  the  country,  laying 
it  everywhere  waste  or  demanding  ransom  for  refraining  from 


AN  HOUR  WITH  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  PERU 


93 


doing  so.  The  outrages  of  this  war  are  unsurpassed  in  history. 
At  Chimbote  a Chilean  general  demanded  that  a sugar-planter 
should  pay  him  $100,000  within  three  days.  The  planter  was  un- 
able to  do  so,  and  the  Chilean  thereupon  destroyed  his  sugar  fac- 
tories, blowing  up  the  machinery  with  dynamite.  He  tore  down 
the  houses  of  the  estate,  and  he  killed  five  hundred  sheep  which 
his  soldiers  could  not  carry  off. 

The  Chilean  army  destroyed  the  magnificent  residences  of  the 
summer  resorts  below  Lima.  They  looted  Lima,  occupying  the 
university  as  a barracks.  They  destroyed  the  archives  and  sacked 
the  public  library,  which  contained  50,000  volumes  and  many  val- 
uable manuscripts.  They  even  robbed  the  zoological  gardens, 
sending  its  elephants  and  other  animals  to  Santiago.  In  their 
battles  they  gave  no  quarter,  bayoneting  not  only  the  wounded 
soldiers,  but  the  defenceless  civilians  as  well.  The  war  lasted 
three  years,  and  when  it  was  ended  Chile  annexed  the  nitrate 
territory  which  she  coveted.  Since  that  time  Peru  has  had  a 
series  of  revolutions.  The  people  have  been  ground  between  the 
upper  and  nether  millstones  of  personal  politics,  and  until  lately 
have  had  but  little  chance  to  do  more  than  keep  out  of  the  way 
of  bullets. 

Since  the  inauguration  of  President  Pierola  peace  has  pre- 
vailed and  business  has  been  steadily  improving.  Foreign  capital 
has  been  coming  in,  and  the  President  is  doing  what  he  can  to 
develop  the  country. 

The  President  of  a South  American  republic  is  a very  im- 
portant factor  in  its  prosperity.  He  has  more  power  in  many 
ways  than  the  President  of  the  United  States.  He  practically 
decides  upon  everything,  controlling  Congress,  and  having  much 
to  say  as  to  concessions  for  public  and  private  works. 

Congress  is  constituted  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  United 
States.  It  consists  of  a Senate  and  a House  of  Representatives, 
the  Senators  being  elected  for  four  years,  and  the  Representa- 
tives for  two.  All  laws  originate  with  Congress,  and  all  appro- 
priations are  supposed  to  be  determined  upon  by  the  two  Houses. 
The  salaries  of  the  members  of  Congress  are  less  than  with  us; 
they  are  paid  $7.50  a day,  and,  as  the  sessions  are  limited  to 
ninety  days,  each  receives  less  than  $700  a year. 

After  leaving  the  President  I paid  a visit  to  the  two  Houses 
of  Congress.  They  are  situated  on  the  Plaza  of  the  Inquisition, 


94  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  site  of  the  terrible  trials  and  tortures  of  the  past.  They 
look  out  upon  a square  where  scores  of  heretics  were  burned  at 
the  stake.  The  Senate  has  its  chamber  in  the  room  where 
the  Court  of  the  Inquisition  held  its  sessions,  so  that  speeches  in 
favour  of  free  thought  are  made  in  the  very  hall  where  the  bigots 
of  the  past  tortured  and  slaughtered  human  beings  in  the  name 
of  religion. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  CAPITAL  OF  PERU 

A Magnificent  City  made  of  Mud  and  Fishing-Poles  — How  Lima  Houses 
are  Built  — Chickens  that  live  on  the  Housetops  — The  Stores 

AND  THE  GREAT  CATHEDRAL — THE  PRETTY  GlRLS  OF  LlMA THEIR  ODD 

Customs  and  Costumes — Lima  on  Horseback — Women  who  ride 
Astride  — A City  where  Mules  take  the  place  of  the  Huckster 
Cart. 

et  us  take  a walk  together  through  the  quaintest  city  of 
this  hemisphere.  We  are  in  Lima,  the  capital  of  Peru. 
The  streets  on  which  we  stand  were  laid  out  more  than 
three  hundred  years  ago.  Lima  was  a city  when  Boston  was  in 
its  swaddling  clothes,  when  Philadelphia  was  a baby,  and  all  to 
the  west  and  south  of  it  was  an  unbroken  wilderness.  There 
are  houses  in  Lima  which  are  two  hundred  years  older  than 
Chicago  or  Cincinnati,  and  I can  even  introduce  you  to  one 
of  the  oldest  citizens,  the  founder  of  the  town,  who,  dried  and 
pickled  by  the  pure  Peruvian  air,  has  for  over  three  centuries 
stayed  here  with  his  property.  I refer  to  the  Spanish  freebooter, 
the  robber  and  butcher  of  the  Indians,  Pizarro,  who  laid  out 
Lima  in  1535.  He  was  assassinated  on  the  spot  where  the  Presi- 
dent of  Peru  now  lives,  and  his  skeleton  and  his  brains  are  kept 
in  a glass  case  in  a cathedral  across  the  way.  The  skin  is  dried, 
and  it  sticks  to  the  bones,  but,  with  the  exception  of  patches 
here  and  there  which  have  been  cut  off  for  relic-hunters,  the 
hide  is  intact,  though  decidedly  leathery  and  the  worse  for  the 
wear. 

In  Lima  everything  lasts  long,  except  money.  Where  else  in 
the  world  will  you  find  a city  three  hundred  years  old  built  of 
mud?  Lima  has  more  than  100,000  people;  it  is  about  six  miles 
around  it,  and  two  miles  from  one  side  to  the  other.  It  has  a 
network  of  narrow  streets,  that  cross  one  another  at  right  an- 
gles, with  spaces  clipped  out  here  and  there  for  parks  or  plazas. 

(95) 


96  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  houses  are  of  one  and  two  stories,  flush  with  the  sidewalks; 
and  in  the  business  sections  cage-like  balconies  hang  out  from 
the  second  stories,  so  that  you  are  shielded  from  the  sun  as  you 
pass  along  the  streets. 

Still,  Lima  looks  very  substantial;  you  might  easily  imagine 
it  to  be  made  of  massive  stone,  here  and  there  wonderfully 
carved.  Some  of  its  walls  look  like  marble;  others  imitate  gran- 
ite. The  houses  are  of  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  and  they 
line  the  streets  with  solid  walls.  About  the  chief  square  there 
are  enclosed  balconies  walled  with  glass  extending  out  from  the 
second  stories,  and  under  these  are  imitation  massive  stone  pil- 
lars, forming  an  arcade,  or  cloister,  around  two  sides  of  the 
square  in  front  of  the  stores.  These  pillars  are  of  mud,  the  pol- 
ished walls  of  the  houses  are  made  of  sun-dried  brick,  coated 
with  plaster  of  paris,  and  the  second  stories  are  a combination  of 
mud  and  bamboo  cane.  The  whole  city  is  built  of  mud  and 
fishing-poles.  Here  some  of  the  finest  churches  of  the  continent 
are  made  of  mud.  The  great  cathedral,  which  cost  millions,  is  a 
mud  structure,  and  could  you  take  a sharpened  rail  and  thrust  it 
against  one  of  its  massive  towers,  it  would  go  through  it  as  it 
would  through  a birdcage. 

But  let  us  go  up  to  the  roof  of  our  hotel  and  take  a bird’s- 
eye  view  of  Lima  before  we  begin  to  explore  it.  We  are  in  a 
vast  field  of  flat  roofs,  above  which  here  and  there  rise  the  mas- 
sive towers  of  great  churches.  At  the  back  of  us,  at  the  edge  of 
this  field,  are  the  bleak  foothills  of  the  Andes,  gray  and  forbid- 
ding; their  tops  in  a smoky  sky,  and  white  clouds  rushing  here 
and  there  over  their  sides.  On  the  edge  of  the  city  we  see  the 
green  crops  of  the  valley  of  the  Rimac,  and  we  can  readily  make 
out  the  three  bridges  which  cross  the  river  as  it  flows  through 
Lima. 

Look  down  on  the  roofs  all  about  us.  They  are  more  like 
garden  beds  than  the  coverings  of  houses.  Do  not  stamp  your 
feet  or  step  heavily  as  you  walk  to  and  fro.  The  roof  trembles 
beneath  us  and  with  little  effort  we  could  push  our  feet  through. 
The  supports  of  many  of  the  roofs  are  merely  cane  poles  on 
which  dirt  is  spread.  On  some  matting  is  first  put  and  then  a 
layer  of  earth,  sand  or  ashes. 

It  is  supposed  rarely  to  rain  here;  almost  from  year’s  end  to 
year’s  end  Lima  has  not  a shower.  Waterproofs  are  unknown, 


LIMA,  PHRU,  SHOWING  CATHEDRAL 


THE  CAPITAL  OF  PERU 


99 


and  the  umbrella-mender’s  cry  is  unheard.  It  is  on  this  account 
that  these  mud  walls  stand  throughout  the  generations.  It  is 
indeed  only  through  lack  of  rain  that  Lima  exists.  A big  shower 
would  reduce  the  town  to  a mud  heap,  while  a two-weeks’  pour 
would  wipe  it  out  of  existence.  Even  here,  however,  nature 
sometimes  varies  her  course.  Last  year  the  people  were  horri- 
fied by  hearing  the  raindrops  pattering  on  the  roofs.  The  water 
which  fell  would  hardly  have  been  called  a sprinkle  in  some 
parts  of  the  world,  but  it  did  more  damage  than  an  earthquake. 

Much  of  the  light  of  the  Lima  houses  comes  from  the  roofs. 
Each  house  has  a court  in  the  centre,  around  which  the  rooms 
run.  Many  of  the  larger  buildings  have  several  courts.  When 
there  is  a double  row  of  rooms  the  inner  ones  are  lighted  by 
little  dormer  windows,  which  extend  up  through  the  flat  roofs, 
and  from  where  we  are  standing  look  like  chicken-coops.  It  is 
difficult,  in  fact,  to  tell  the  dormers  from  the  real  chicken-coops. 
Thousands  of  chickens  are  born,  lay  their  eggs,  and  grow  fat  on 
the  roofs.  Over  there  a hen  is  cackling.  I am  awakened  every 
night  by  the  crowing  of  the  roosters  above  me,  and  even  in  the 
heart  of  the  city  the  noises  of  the  early  morning  make  one  im- 
agine one’s  self  in  a barnyard.  There  is  one  asthmatic  old  rooster 
that  crows  me  awake  regularly  at  five  a.  m.,  and  another  that 
sometimes  makes  the  air  shake  at  midnight.  I have  not  yet  seen 
a cow  on  the  roofs,  though  I am  told  that  some  families  have 
their  stalls  so  located,  the  cattle  not  being  taken  down  until  they 
are  ready  for  killing. 

From  this  one  might  think  the  houses  of  Lima  would  be  al- 
ways tumbling  down,  and  that  the  city  would  be  in  constant 
danger  from  fires.  This  is  not  the  case.  The  houses  are  almost 
earthquake  proof,  the  first-story  walls  of  the  larger  buildings  be- 
ing often  from  four  to  six  feet  thick,  although  those  of  the 
second  story  are  thin.  The  mud  walls  never  take  fire.  The  fur- 
niture may  go  up  in  smoke,  but  as  soon  as  the  roof  is  ablaze  it 
falls  in,  and  the  mud  which  covers  it  puts  out  the  fire.  There 
are,  indeed,  but  few  losses  from  fires  here ; and  even  out  in  the 
country,  away  from  the  fire  companies,  houses  like  these  are  in- 
sured for  one-half  of  one  per  cent.  Such  a thing  as  a block  or 
square  burning  down  is  unknown  in  Lima. 

From  the  hotel  roof  we  get  some  idea  of  how  compactly  the 
city  is  built.  There  are  no  gardens,  and  but  few  back-yards. 


IOO  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  larger  houses  cover  a great  deal  of  space,  as  they  are  con- 
fined to  one,  or  at  most  two,  floors.  The  smaller  ones  are  so 
small  that  it  is  hard  to  imagine  they  are  houses  at  all.  There 
are  hundreds  of  little  blind  alleys,  which  are  reached  through 
doors  in  the  walls  along  the  main  streets.  The  alleys  are  walled 
with  cell-like  rooms,  each  not  more  than  ten  feet  square.  Each 
of  these  rooms  is  a house.  In  one  alley  which  I visited  I was 
told  that  there  were  on  the  average  about  eight  people  to  each 
tenement.  Such  houses  have  yards  about  six  feet  square  sur- 
rounded by  high  walls.  They  have  'no  windows,  and  the  light 
comes  in  through  the  front  and  back  doors.  None  of  the  houses 
have  chimneys.  Most  of  the  cooking  is  done  over  charcoal  fires. 
Even  the  best  houses  have  few  windows  on  the  ground  floor; 
as  a rule  the  light  comes  from  the  interior  courts  or  the  roof. 
In  the  two-story  houses  of  the  better  class,  galleries  run  around 
the  courts,  and  the  rooms  opening  out  into  these  are  large  and 
airy.  All  outside  windows  and  doors  are  barred  with  iron,  and 
the  better  streets  of  the  city  look  like  long  rows  of  prisons. 
Many  fine  homes  are  entered  through  iron-barred  gates  — palatial 
mansions  surrounding  courts  filled  with  flowers. 

In  the  business  sections  the  people  live  in  the  second  stories, 
which  are  divided  into  flats,  or  apartments.  Many  rooms  are 
rented,  and  only  the  wealthy  have  large  houses.  On  the  ground 
floors  are  stores  and  shops  open  to  the  street.  The  stores  have 
no  windows,  and  the  doors  run  the  full  width,  so  that  the  whole 
front  is  pushed  back  or  taken  away  during  business  hours.  The 
light  is  usually  from  the  front,  though  the  larger  establishments 
have  courts,  and  extend  a long  distance  to  the  rear.  Many  of 
the  shops  are  like  caves.  They  are  cells  separated  only  by  thin 
walls.  Indeed,  a walk  along  the  Mercadores  is  like  a journey 
through  a museum  or  one  of  our  large  department  stores.  The 
business  streets  are  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  wide,  more  often 
the  former;  and  the  sidewalks  are  not  over  four  feet  in  width. 
Four  people  cannot  well  walk  abreast,  and  a party  must  go  along 
double  file.  A donkey  with  panniers  took  the  right  of  way  from 
me  this  morning,  for  I was  forced  to  step  out  into  the  road  to 
let  him  go  by. 

The  street  scenes  of  Lima  are  interesting.  Let  us  stop  un- 
der the  arcade,  which  runs  about  the  plaza,  and  watch  the  crowds 
We  are  among  some  of  the  best  shops  of  the  city.  They  are  full 


( 102  ) 


CHURCH  OF  THE  MERCEDES,  LIMA,  PERU 


THE  CAPITAL  OF  PERU 


io 


of  fine  goods,  and  here  between  four  and  five  o’clock  every  after- 
noon the  people  come  to  buy  and  do  business.  These  hours  are 
the  gayest  of  the  day,  when  the  crowd  is  as  dense  as  that  of 
lower  Broadway  at  noon. 

The  crowd  in  the  Lima  arcades,  however,  is  far  different  from 
that  on  Broadway.  No  one  hurries.  The  men  saunter  along  or 
stand  on  the  street  and  chat  with  their  friends.  We  see  little 
knots  of  them  every  few  yards,  and  the  messengers,  the  mer- 
chants, and  the  clerks  seem  to  have  time  and  to  spare.  Almost 
everyone  is  well  dressed.  There  are  tall  hats  and  kid  gloves;  and 
nearly  everyone,  old  and  young,  carries  a cane.  All  are  very 
polite.  They  bow,  smile,  shake  hands,  and  lift  their  hats  when 
they  meet;  and  bow,  smile,  and  tip  their  hats  when  about  to  de- 
part. So  far  as  form  goes,  they  are  the  pink  of  perfection,  and 
you  would  imagine  them  gentlemen  of  leisure  rolling  in  wealth. 
The  truth  is,  most  of  them  are  poor.  Peru  has  for  years  been 
playing  a losing  game  with  fortune,  and  the  day  of  her  enor- 
mous riches  has  long-  gone  by.  If  you  look  closely,  you  will  see 
that  many  a coat  is  shiny  at  the  seams,  and  that  the  silk  hats 
are  fast  losing  their  nap.  There  are,  perhaps,  more  reduced  gen- 
tlemen in  Lima  than  in  any  other  city  in  the  world.  They  have 
been  patronizing  the  pawnbrokers  and  the  foreign  bond-buyers 
until  the  people,  nationally  and  individually,  are  comparatively 
poor.  They  are  not  a business  people,  and,  having  fallen,  do  not 
know  how  to  get  up.  The  business  of  the  country  is  in  the 
hands  of  foreigners;  there  are  not  two  big  Peruvian  business 
houses  in  the  Peruvian  capital.  The  young  Peruvians  are  clerks 
in  the  stores  or  in  the  government  offices,  while  their  fathers, 
as  a rule,  are  skimping  along  on  the  remains  of  their  once  great 
estates. 

But  we  must  not  forget  where  we  are.  We  are  in  the  main 
shopping  section  of  Lima  at  4.30  p.  m.,  and  some  of  the  prettiest 
women  south  of  the  equator  are  going  to  and  fro  past  us.  The 
young  ladies  of  Lima  are  famous  for  beauty.  They  are  straight 
and  well-rounded,  and  their  soft  oval  faces,  with  their  luxuriant 
hair  combed  high  up  from  the  forehead,  are  lighted  by  eyes  which 
seem  to  shine  with  the  over-soul  of  their  owners. 

If  you  could  drop  Lima  down  into  New  York,  the  men  would 
think  the  city  had  been  captured  by  widows  or  female  orphans 
who  had  just  gone  into  mourning.  When  the  women  in  Lima 


104  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

go  out  to  walk  they  dress  in  black.  They  do  not  wear  bonnets, 
but  they  wrap  fine  shawls  of  black  goods  about  their  heads,  pin- 
ning them  fast  to  their  shoulders,  so  that  the  face  alone  shows. 
The  background  adds  to  their  beauty,  and  the  costume  on  the 
whole  is  becoming.  It  saves  the  buying  of  new  hats  or  bonnets, 
and  is  easy  to  put  on  and  take  off.  Doubtless  many  a seedy 
waist  and  frowsy  head  are  hidden  under  those  black  shawls. 
The  Peruvian  woman  needs  to  wash  only  her  face  for  the  streets, 

for  the  rest  of  her  per- 
son is  hidden.  I was 
told  that  she  often  dis- 
penses even  with  washing 
her  face,  for  she  thinks 
that  cold  water  brings 
fevers,  and  that  frequent 
bathing  is  productive  of 
all  kinds  of  disease. 

A good  deal  of  face- 
powder  is  used,  and  Lima 
has  as  many  perfumery 
shops  as  any  city  of  its 
size  in  the  world.  Both 
men  and  women  are  fond 
of  sweet  smells,  and  at 
carnival  time  they  go 
about  with  squirt-guns 
and  atomizers,  with  which 
they  drench  their  friends 
of  the  opposite  sex.  The 
girls  throw  powder  on 
the  men,  and  boys  and 
women  dash  water  into 
each  other’s  face.  A crowd  of  Lima  belles  will  sometimes  catch 
hold  of  one  of  the  beaux  and  souse  him  in  a bath-tub  full  of 
water.  Yesterday  I came  across  a young  man  who  was  suffer- 
ing with  fever  from  a cold  which  he  had  taken  from  a recent 
similar  ducking. 

The  Lima  women  are  very  devout.  Almost  every  one  we  meet 
carries  a prayer-book,  and  we  seldom  enter  a church  without  find- 
ing a score  or  more  of  them  on  their  knees.  No  woman  is  allowed 


A LIMA  BELLE 


‘i°5) 


CHURCH  OF  SAN  DOMINGO,  LIMA 


THE  CAPITAL  OF  PERU 


>°7 


to  enter  a church  wearing  a hat  or  bonnet;  those  who  attempt 
to  do  so  are  touched  with  a long  stick  by  the  sexton  and  told  to 
uncover  their  heads.  A church  congregation  is  indeed  one  of 
the  curious  sights  of  Lima.  The  people  are  Catholics,  and  the 
ceremonies  are  impressive,  the  costumes  of  the  priests  being  re- 
splendent with  gold  and  silver  braid.  The  men  and  women  sit 
apart,  and  the  women  and  girls,  with  their  black  headgear,  make 
you  think  of  a congregation  of  nuns,  dead  to  the  world. 

At  their  own  homes,  however,  Peruvian  ladies  dress  much  like 
their  sisters  in  other  parts  of  Christendom.  They  are  fond  of 
gay  dresses,  and  talk  much  of  the  fashions.  In  conversation  they 
are  vivacious,  and  quite  able  to  hold  their  own  with  the  men. 
They  are  interested  in  politics,  and  do  much  to  create  public  sen- 
timent. The  women  of  the  better  classes  are  well  educated ; 
many  of  them  speak  French.  All  are  fond  of  music,  and  not  a 
few  play  the  piano,  mandolin,  and  guitar  exceedingly  well.  None 
of  them  has  any  woman’s-rights  tendencies:  so  far  the  new 
woman  has  not  yet  appeared  in  Peru. 

Lima  on  horseback  is  quite  as  interesting  as  Lima  afoot. 
There  are  few  private  carriages.  The  streets  are  paved  with 
cobbles,  and  all  sorts  of  vehicles  jolt  you  terribly  as  you  ride 
over  the  stones.  For  this  reason  the  people  prefer  to  ride  in  the 
street-cars  or  on  horses. 

The  horses  of  the  Pacific  coast  of  South  America  are  small 
but  spirited,  and  they  have  a delightful  gait  — a cross  between  a 
pace  and  the  gait  of  a high-stepping  hackney,  which  carries  the 
rider  along  as  easily  as  though  he  were  in  a rubber-tired  car- 
riage. One  is  coming  down  the  street  now.  The  rider,  were  it 
not  for  the  big  silver  spurs  on  his  boots,  would  not  be  out  of 
place  in  Hyde  Park.  He  is  in  full  riding  costume,  and  his  horse 
is  magnificently  apparelled.  Notice  his  bridle!  It  is  trimmed 
with  silver,  and  the  stirrups  and  bit  are  of  the  same  shining 
white  metal.  His  saddle  is  plated  with  silver,  and  rests  upon 
a heavy  saddle-blanket  of  fur.  How  the  horse  prances  as  his 
master  touches  him  with  the  spur!  and  how  those  demure, 
sombre-clad  maidens  who  are  passing  by  steal  sly  glances  at  the 
rider  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes!  He  has  stopped  and  dis- 
mounted, and  is  stooping  at  his  horse’s  front  feet,  buckling  a 
short  strap  about  the  forelegs,  to  hobble  the  animal.  He  leaves 
him  thus,  without  tying,  and  goes  into  a store.  That  is  the  way 


Io8  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

all  Peruvian  horses  are  fastened.  There  are  no  hitching-posts, 
rings,  or  horse  weights,  and  it  is  a police  regulation  that  every 
horse  left  alone  on  the  sti'eet  must  be  hobbled.  The  straps  used 
are  so  short  that  they  can  be  easily  carried  in  the  pocket.  The 
drivers  of  carts  hobble  their  mules  by  tying  the  lines  about  their 
fore-feet. 

Much  of  the  peddling  of  Lima  is  done  on  horseback,  and  in 
many  cases  the  peddlers  are  Indian  women  who  ride  astride. 
The  milk  of  the  city  is  carried  about  in  cans  tied  to  the  sides  of 
a horse,  on  the  back  of  which,  with  her  legs  straddling  its  neck, 
sits  a bronze-faced  woman  dressed  in  bright  calico,  and  wearing 
a broad-brimmed  Panama  hat.  When  the  milk-woman  reaches 
the  house  of  a customer,  she  slides  down  over  the  horse’s  neck 
and  lifts  one  of  the  cans  out  of  the  pocket  in  which  it  is  fast- 
ened, and  carries  it  into  the  house.  The  bread-waggon  of  Lima 
is  a horse  with  two  panniers  full  of  loaves.  Vegetables  are  also 
peddled  by  women.  All  sorts  of  things  are  peddled  on  donkeys 
ridden  by  men  or  boys,  who  sit  just  in  front  of  the  tails  of  the 
beasts,  with  their  backs  against  the  loads  of  goods  they  are  ped- 
dling. There  are  no  huckster  waggons;  and  the  drays  are  long 
two-wheeled  carts  drawn  by  three  mules  abreast. 


• jf 


, 


(»°)  DOWN  THE  ANDES  OF  PERU  ON  A HAND-CAR 


CHAPTER  XII 


DOWN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR 

An  Exciting  Trip  from  the  Mountain-Tops  to  the  Pacific  ocean  over  the 
steepest  Railroad  in  the  World — Its  Track  Climbs  upwards  of 
Three  Miles  in  less  than  a Hundred  — Its  Cost  in  Money  and  Lives 
— The  Scenic  Wonders  of  the  Andes — How  One  feels  Three  Miles 
above  the  Sea  — The  Horrors  of  Soroche,  or  Mountain  Sickness  — 
A Snowball  fight  in  the  Clouds  — On  the  Eastern  Side  of  the 
Andes. 

own  the  Andes  on  a hand-car;  coasting  upon  the  steepest 
railroad  in  the  world;  dashing  through  clouds  to  find 
clouds  below  you;  hanging  to  precipices;  rushing  along 
bridges  over  frightful  chasms;  whirling  around  curves,  now  in 
the  midnight  darkness  of  rocky  tunnels,  and  anon  where  the  light 
of  day  makes  you  shudder  at  the  depths  below  you; — these  have 
been  among  my  experiences  in  the  past  few  days.  I have  climbed 
to  the  top  of  the  Andes,  and  have  slid  back  to  the  sea. 

My  trip  was  over  the  Oroya  Railroad,  one  of  the  most  won- 
derful pieces  of  railroad  engineering  ever  constructed.  The  road 
is  only  138  miles  long,  but  it  climbs  up  the  steepest  mountains 
of  the  globe.  It  rises  more  than  three  miles  in  less  than  a hun- 
dred, and  its  highest  point  is  15,665  feet  above  its  starting-point 
at  Callao  on  the  Pacific.  At  its  highest  point  it  is  still  2,000  feet 
below  the  summit  of  Mount  Meiggs.  It  cuts  right  through  this 
mountain  by  a tunnel  to  the  other  side  of  the  Andes,  and  then 
descends  to  the  valley  of  the  Jauja,  through  the  rich  silver- 
mining region  of  Yauli,  and  finally  ends  at  Oroya,  an  Indian 
market  town  12,178  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  Oroya  Railroad  is  one  of  the  most  expensive  railroads 
ever  built.  It  was  costly  in  both  men  and  money.  Seven  thou- 
sand lives  were  lost  during  its  construction,  and  the  first  86  miles 
of  it  cost  $27,000,000,  or  over  $300,000  per  mile.  Between  the 
coast  and  the  tunnel  at  the  summit  there  is  no  down  grade,  and 

(in) 


1 12  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  speed  of  our  hand-car  was  regulated  only  by  the  pressure  on 

the  brake  in  the  hands  of  an  Indian  conductor.  On  many  parts 

of  the  road  the  grade  is  over  four  per  cent  or  21 1 feet  to  the 

mile;  and  at  such  grades  the  track  winds  about  and  up  the  An- 

des, passing  through  cuts  in  the  solid  rock,  and  through  sixty- 
three  tunnels,  some  of  which  are  of  the  shape  of  the  letter  S. 
Its  track  is  of  the  standard  gauge,  well  laid  out  and  in  excellent 
condition. 

This  road  was  built  by  an  American,  though  it  was  suggested 
by  a Peruvian.  Henry  Meiggs,  a Californian,  laid  out  the  road, 
acted  as  its  engineer-in-chief,  raised  the  money  to  build  it,  and 
superintended  most  of  its  construction.  The  road  was  originally 
intended  to  reach  the  Cerro  de  Pasco  silver  mines,  but  the  $27,- 
000,000  gave  out  when  about  eighty-six  miles  had  been  built, 
and  the  extension  is  still  some  forty-odd  miles  away  from  these 
famous  mountains  of  copper  and  silver. 

The  portion  of  the  road  above  where  Mr.  Meiggs  left  off  was 
constructed  by  the  Peruvian  corporation  under  what  is  known  as 
the  Grace  contract.  The  intention  is  to  extend  the  road  ulti- 
mately into  the  Perene,  a rich  coffee-raising  district,  thence  to 
the  head  of  the  steam  navigation  of  some  of  the  tributaries  of 
the  Amazon.  The  preliminary  surveys  for  this  have  already  been 
made.  The  total  distance  from  the  sea  to  the  navigable  Amazon 
is  not  more  than  210  miles,  but  there  is  at  present  no  sign  of 
the  road  being  soon  completed.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  rail- 
road now  pays  more  than  its  operating  expenses,  and  it  will  be 
long  before  it  will  yield  dividends  in  proportion  to  its  enormous 
cost.  Only  two  passenger  trains  are  run  over  it  a week,  its  chief 
business  being  the  carrying  of  silver  and  copper  ore  down  the 
mountains. 

The  usual  journey  over  this  road  is  taken  on  the  passenger 
train,  which  carries  the  traveller  up  the  mountains  one  day  and 
brings  him  back  the  next.  Through  the  kindness  of  the  Ameri- 
can firm  of  Grace  & Co.  of  Lima,  I was  taken  up  on  a small  en- 
gine and  brought  down  on  a hand-car,  thus  having  an  excellent 
opportunity  to  study  the  railroad  and  the  mountains  up  which  it 
climbs. 

Our  special  engine  was  a dainty  little  locomotive  called  (<  La 
Favorita.  ” It  was  half  engine  and  half  passenger-coach.  Its  cab 
was  walled  with  glass  and  fitted  with  comfortable  seats.  It  took 


DOWN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR  I 1 3 

the  place  of  the  tender  which  the  ordinary  engine  has  for  coal, 
our  fuel  being  coal-oil  from  the  petroleum  wells  of  northern 
Peru  Our  party  consisted  of  the  American  minister,  Mr.  Dud- 
ley, and  his  secretary  of  legation,  Mr.  Neale,  Mr.  Sherman,  the 
manager  of  Grace  & Co.,  a Frenchman  named  Piper,  a Mr.  Pier- 
son, an  electric-street-railroad  man  from  Ohio,  and  myself.  The 
engineer  and  his  helper  were  Peruvians. 

We  left  Lima  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  spent 
the  whole  day  on  the  road,  stopping  at  the  most  interesting 
points  to  take  photographs,  and  going  as  fast  or  as  slow  as  we 
wished. 

Lima  is  situated  in  the  valley  of  the  Rimac  river.  It  is  right 
at  the  foot  of  the  Andes,  and  our  trip  was  up  the  mountains 
along  the  course  of  this  river  to  its  source  on  the  summit. 
At  Lima  the  Rimac  is  what  we,  in  America,  would  call  a good- 
sized  creek  It  is  not  navigable,  and  is,  in  fact,  a stream  of 
foaming  white  water  from  the  top  of  the  Andes  to  the  sea.  The 
descent  is  so  steep  that  quiet  pools  are  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  river  is  a succession  of  waterfalls,  foaming  churns,  and  rush- 
ing rapids.  During  the  ride  we  could  often  see  the  river  above 
and  below  us  at  the  same  time,  and  we  went  up,  climbing  the 
sides  of  the  mountains,  cheered  on  our  way  by  the  rushing  of 
the  waters. 

We  first  passed  through  the  sugar  and  cotton  plantations 
which  fill  the  valley  above  Lima.  The  fields  look  like  gardens 
made  for  show  They  are  surrounded  by  mud  walls,  and  the 
crops  are  as  green  as  those  of  the  United  States  in  June.  We 
passed  a sugar  hacienda  in  which  two  steam-engines  were  pulling 
a cable  plough  through  a field  on  one  side  of  the  track,  while  on 
the  other  side  men  were  ploughing  with  oxen  and  wooden  ploughs, 
urging  the  beasts  onward  with  goads  fifteen  feet  long.  Farther 
on  gangs  of  Indians  were  working  among  the  cotton  with  over- 
seers on  horseback.  The  cotton  plants  were  in  blossom,  and  the 
fields  looked  like  vast  gardens  of  pink  and  yellow  roses.  The 
men  weed  the  plants,  and  the  fields  are  as  clean  as  any  rose 
garden  at  home.  Here  we  pass  a cotton  mill,  and  farther  on  we 
fly  past  a sugar  factory  which  grinds  out  thousands  of  pounds  of 
sugar  a day.  We  notice  that  most  of  the  rich  land  is  used.  It 
is  all  watered  by  the  Rimac,  for  nothing  grows  here  without 
irrigation. 


1 14  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Now  we  are  in  the  foothills  of  the  Andes.  How  bleak  and 
bare  and  gray  they  look  in  the  early  morning!  Not  a green  spot 
is  to  be  seen  anywhere  on  the  vast  walls  which  here  face  the 
sea.  We  find  the  ascent  difficult  as  we  rise  to  the  mountains 
behind.  The  foothills  are  gigantic  masses  of  soft,  silver-gray 
velvet,  where  the  sun  casts  its  shadows,  and  of  dazzling  white 
where  it  strikes  full  in  their  faces.  The  only  green  is  the  little 
strip  along  the  banks  of  the  river.  Farther  on  we  notice  a thin 
fuz  of  green  cropping  out  of  the  gray.  It  is  as  though  the  vel- 
vet was  sprinkled  with  a dust  of  ground  emeralds.  Here  we 
come  across  a little  cactus,  and  there  a small  bunch  of  weeds. 

As  we  ascend,  the  mountains  grow  greener,  until  at  the  level 
of  Mount  Washington  we  find  them  covered  with  a thin  coat  of 
vegetation.  At  the  altitude  of  Leadville  there  is  plenty  of  grass, 
and  at  one  point,  at  a stopping  of  our  engine,  we  count  forty 
different  kinds  of  flowers.  There  are  buttercups  without  num- 
ber, silver-gray  mosses,  and  flowers  of  all  colors,  the  names  of 
which  I do  not  know.  As  I remark  upon  the  vegetation,  saying 
that  it  is  still  very  scanty,  Mr.  Sherman  tells  me  that,  were  it 
not  the  rainy  season,  there  would  be  no  green  at  all,  and  that  at 
other  times  of  the  year  the  whole  western  side  of  the  Andes  is 
bleak,  dry,  colourless,  and  sterile. 

Still  higher  we  come  into  a region  of  rock,  with  bits  of  soil 
here  and  there.  In  such  places  every  inch  of  ground  is  culti- 
vated. The  mountains  are  terraced  clear  to  their  tops,  and  some 
of  them  are  covered  with  steps  of  green  built  up  with  rock,  so 
graduated  that  a man  can  stand  on  one  of  the  lower  steps  and 
plant  the  seed,  or  weed  the  crops,  of  the  next  ledge  without 
stooping  over.  Some  of  the  fields  are  not  as  large  as  a bedspread, 
and  some  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain  do  not  look  as 
big  as  a pocket  handkerchief.  Some  patches  of  corn  seem  almost 
inaccessible,  and  remind  one  of  the  farmers  of  West  Virginia,  who 
are  said  to  have  to  plant  their  crops  with  the  rifle,  as  the  hills 
are  so  steep  they  are  unable  to  stand  on  the  sides  long  enough 
to  drop  the  corn  in  the  rows. 

We  see  Indians  planting  and  working  in  the  fields,  and  pass 
numerous  little  villages  of  one-story  houses  made  of  sun-dried 
bricks,  and  roofed  with  thatch  or  sheets  of  corrugated  iron.  In 
most  places  the  iron  plates  are  not  nailed  to  the  huts;  they  are 
merely  laid  upon  the  rafters  and  kept  there  by  covering  them 


DOWN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR  117 

with  stones.  Many  of  the  houses  are  not  larger  than  dog-kennels, 
and  they  are  quite  as  squalid  as  an  American  pigsty.  Their  in- 
habitants, who  gather  around  us  at  the  stations,  are  of  the  Peon 
variety,  dark-faced  Indian  men,  women,  and  children,  the  latter 
frightened  to  crying  when  I posed  them  for  my  camera.  They 
have  evidently  never  heard  of  photographs,  and  one  little  fellow 
howled  like  a Cherokee  Indian  when  I pointed  the  instrument 
at  him. 

I will  not  say  that  the  Andes  are  more  beautiful  or  more  im- 
pressive than  the  Alps,  the  Rockies,  or  the  Himalayas,  but  they 
surpass  them  in  some  respects,  and  their  wonders  are  their  own. 
Here  the  mountains  rise  almost  abruptly.  You  ride  for  miles 
between  walls  of  rock  which  kiss  the  sky  thousands  of  feet 
above  you.  Some  of  the  rocks  take  the  shapes  of  gigantic  cathe- 
drals, very  temples  of  the  gods,  their  spires  hidden  in  the  clouds. 
Others  look  like  vast  fortifications,  walls  of  rock  to  shut  the  na- 
tions of  the  West  away  from  the  riches  of  this  great  continent. 
There  are  no  pretty  bits  of  scenery  such  as  you  see  amid  other 
mountains.  All  is  on  the  grandest  and  most  terrible  scale.  In 
our  ride,  we  climb  along  the  sides  of  these  walls.  Now  we 
pierce  them  by  a tunnel  high  up  in  the  air,  and,  higher  still,  see 
another  tunnel  which  we  shall  reach  later  on.  In  going  from 
one  tunnel  into  another  we  cross  gorges,  on  an  iron  network 
of  a bridge,  which  looks  awfully  frail  as  <(  La  Favorita”  passes 
over  it. 

Now  we  pierce  a wall  of  rock  where  a river  has  been  turned 
aside  that  it  may  not  interfere  with  the  road,  and  then  by  a 
winding  tunnel  we  dash  out  into  what  is  called  “the  Infernillo,” 
or  hell.  It  is  a slender  iron  bridge  two  miles  above  the  sea, 
high  up  between  walls  of  rock.  Far  below  we  see  waters  rush- 
ing, and  out  of  the  wall  we  have  left  a great  torrent  of  foam- 
ing water  plunges.  Before  us,  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge, 
is  another  wall  of  rock  in  which  is  a black  hole  pierced  by 
the  track,  and,  as  we  look  upward  between  these  walls,  we  see, 
as  through  a narrow  slit,  the  blue  sky  of  heaven  above  this 
Andean  hell. 

There  are  several  such  hanging  bridges  on  the  route.  We 
stopped  at  the  Veruguas  bridge,  which  spans  a chasm  580  feet 
wide,  and  hangs  to  tunnels  300  feet  above  the  Veruguas  river. 
Some  time  ago  this  bridge  was  swept  away  and,  for  months,  both 
S.  A.— 8 


1 18  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

passengers  and  freight  were  carried  across  on  a cable,  the  little 
car  running  on  a rope  stretched  from  wall  to  wall  across  the 
frightful  chasm. 

At  times  we  saw  tunnels  above  and  below  us.  The  road  goes 
up  its  steepest  places  in  a zigzag  route,  so  that  at  one  time  we 
counted  five  tracks  running  almost  parallel  below  us. 

Almost  the  whole  line  was  blasted  out  of  the  mountain  rock. 
On  many  places  along  the  line,  the  hills  are  so  steep  that  men 
had  to  be  lowered  by  ropes  over  the  edges  of  the  precipices  to 
drill  holes  for  the  powder  which  blasted  away  the  ledges  for  the 
track.  Falling  rocks  killed  some,  landslides  swallowed  up  others, 
and  many  died  of  fever. 

You  can  imagine  something  of  the  sensation  of  going  down 
such  a road  on  a hand-car.  The  reality  is  wilder  and  more  ex- 
citing than  one  can  conceive.  The  hand-car  on  which  I rode 
was  of  the  rudest  order.  It  was  merely  a platform  five  feet 

long,  and  a little  wider  than  the  track,  on  four  ordinary  car- 

wheels.  On  the  front  part  of  the  platform  a strip  of  wood  two 

inches  thick  and  about  as  wide  was  nailed,  and  at  the  back  was 
a seat  much  like  that  of  a farm  waggon.  The  seat  was  just  wide 
enough  for  three.  The  conductor,  a brown-faced  Indian,  sat  in 
the  middle,  with  his  hand  on  the  brake  in  the  centre  of  the  plat- 
form. Mr.  Sherman  and  I sat  on  the  right  and  left,  our  feet 

braced  against  the  strip  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  and  our  hands 

on  the  side  and  back  of  the  seat,  holding  on  for  dear  life  as  we 

rushed  down  the  mountains.  The  only  means  of  stopping  the  car 
was  by  the  brake,  and  the  danger  as  we  rushed  through  the  tun- 
nels was  not  only  that  the  car  might  jump  the  track  in  going 

around  the  curves,  but  also  that  we  might  meet  a donkey  or  an 

Indian  coming  through.  The  rocks  in  many  places  are  loose, 

and  the  possibility  of  a landslide  is  such  that  a hand-car  is  al- 
ways sent  five  minutes  ahead  of  the  regular  passenger  train  to 
see  that  the  road  is  free.  At  one  time  we  chased  a cow  for 
about  a mile,  and  at  another  two  llamas  blocked  the  track  for  a 
few  moments.  At  times  the  road  seemed  to  go  down  at  an  an- 
gle of  forty-five  degrees,  and  many  of  the  severest  grades  were 
along  the  edges  of  precipices,  or  where  we  seemed  to  be  clinging 
to  walls  of  rock.  I cannot  say  that  I was  not  afraid,  nor  that 

my  heart  was  not  often  in  my  mouth,  but  I will  say  that  the 

experience  was  such  that,  knowing  what  I now  do,  I would  risk 


DOWN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR  I 19 

the  journey  again  to  feel  the  same  exhilarating  sense  of  pleasure 
and  danger  combined. 

The  sensation  of  standing  on  the  top  of  the  Andes  was  also 
worth  experiencing.  As  we  climbed  up  and  up  above  Casapalca, 
which  is  about  14,000  feet  above  the  sea,  the  air  grew  colder  and 
rarer.  We  rode  out  of  a heavy  rain  into  a dense  snow-storm.  Soon 
we  were  in  banks  of  snow.  The  mist  and  the  clouds  surrounded 
us  so  that  we  could  not  see  twenty  feet  beyond  the  car.  We 
rode  through  the  clouds  and  saw  the  storm  sweep  down  the  Andes 
below  us.  As  the  mist  disappeared,  we  caught  a glimpse  of  the 
country  through  which  we  had  been  passing,  and  shuddered  as 
we  looked  at  the  precipices  over  which  we  had  gone.  Mount 
Meiggs  was  almost  straight  above  us,  and  we  stopped  the  en- 
gine a moment  in  front  of  the  black  mouth  of  the  Galera  tunnel 
on  the  very  roof  of  the  South  American  continent.  Behind  us 
all  the  waters  were  flowing  into  the  Pacific.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  tunnel  the  waters  find  their  way  through  the  Amazon  into 
the  Atlantic.  The  dividing  of  the  waters  is,  in  fact,  within  the 
tunnel  itself,  and  you  could  really  stand  at  a certain  point  in  the 
Galera  tunnel  and  drink  from  waters  which  will  lose  themselves 
in  both  oceans.  I did  not  do  this,,  for  the  interior  was  as  dark  as 
pitch,  and  I was  too  anxious  to  see  the  other  side  of  the  Andes. 

We  passed  through  the  tunnel,  and  stopped  (<  La  Favorita”  at 
the  other  side,  amid  some  of  the  grandest  scenery  of  our  jour- 
ney. The  mountains  all  about  us  were  capped  with  snow.  Over 
us  towered  Mount  Meiggs,  17,575  feet  high,  its  top  a-half  mile 
above  where  we  stood.  Our  altitude  was  more  than  three  miles 
above  the  sea.  We  were  on  the  highest  railroad  point  in  the 
world,  far  higher  than  the  top  of  Fujiyama,  the  snow-capped 
mountain  of  Japan,  almost  as  near  to  heaven  as  the  top  of 
Mount  Blanc,  a thousand  feet  higher  than  Pike’s  Peak  or  any 
mountain  in  Colorado,  higher  than  Mount  Whitney,  and,  in  fact, 
higher  than  any  mountain  in  the  United  States  outside  Alaska. 
As  I looked  at  the  grandeur  about  me  I felt  like  the  expressive 
but  not  irreverent  cowboy  who  woke  one  morning  in  the  midst 
of  the  Alps.  His  method  of  showing  his  approbation  had  always 
been  by  a hurrah,  and  when  he  looked  up  at  the  snow-capped 
peaks  rising  one  upon  another  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  he 
could  contain  himself  no  longer,  and  throwing  his  hat  into  the 
air  with  a cowboy  yell,  he  exclaimed,  (<  Hurrah  for  God!” 


120  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

This  was  how  I felt,  but  I acted  differently.  My  voice  was 
so  weak  from  the  rarity  of  the  air  that  I could  not  have  whistled 
a dog.  At  about  10,000  feet  above  the  sea,  the  conversation  of 
our  party  began  to  flag.  On  the  outside  platform  of  (<  La  Favor- 
ita w it  was  almost  impossible  for  us  to  talk  to  one  another,  and 
I found  myself  again  and  again  weighing  my  thoughts  to  decide 
whether  they  were  worth  the  breath  it  would  take  to  utter  them. 
Any  kind  of  exertion  took  triple  strength.  My  boots  suddenly 
grew  heavy,  and  I changed  my  step  to  that  of  an  old  man.  At 
the  eastern  end  of  the  Galera  tunnel  we  stopped  amid  banks  of 
snow,  and  Mr.  Sherman  and  myself  had  a snowballing  fight  up 
there  in  the  clouds.  It  was  not  an  exciting  contest*.  Every 
throw  sent  our  hearts  into  our  throats,  and  we  had  to  stop  and 
pant  for  breath.  After  this,  when  we  walked  at  all,  we  went 
very  slowly,  and  in  climbing  up  the  hills  we  crawled.  As  the 
day  went  on,  the  uncomfortable  feeling  increased.  We  descended 
about  1,000  feet,  and  stopped  for  the  night  at  Casapalca,  where 
there  is  a big  silver  and  copper  smelter  owned  by  Americans, 
and  where  we  were  received  by  the  vice-president  of  the  com- 
pany, Captain  H.  Guyer,  an  Idaho  mining  engineer,  who  made 
us  at  home  and  put  us  up  for  the  night.  Before  we  got  to  the 
house,  the  Frenchman  and  Mr.  Pierson  were  attacked  with  so- 
roche, or  mountain  sickness,  a disease  common  to  strangers  in 
high  altitudes;  and  later  on  all  members  of  the  party  were  more 
or  less  affected.  My  attack  did  not  come  until  midnight.  I 
awoke  feeling  as  though  the  top  of  my  head  were  rising  into  the 
air.  I had  a terrible  pain  in  the  temples,  cramps  in  my  legs, 
and  at  the  same  time  a strong  inclination  to  vomit.  I lay  on 
my  back  all  night,  to  give  my  lungs  as  full  play  as  possible,  and 
hardly  slept  a wink.  I managed  to  get  up  at  daybreak  and 
drink  some  coffee,  and  by  keeping  out  of  doors  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  take  my  hand-car  ride  down  the  mountain.  Mr.  Sher- 
man fared  even  better  than  I,  but  Secretary  Neale  said  that, 
between  the  smell  of  sulphur  from  the  smelting  furnaces  and 
the  soroche,  he  thought  he  was  in  Hades,  and  he  dreamed  all 
night  that  a hundred  devils  were  dancing  on  his  chest. 

The  soroche  is  common  throughout  the  Andes.  It  usually 
begins  at  the  altitude  of  12,000  feet.  With  some  people  it  does 
not  last  more  than  a day  or  so,  and  then  passes  off.  WTith  others 
it  is  very  serious.  The  first  symptoms  are  pains  in  the  head 


DOWN  THE  ANDES  ON  A HAND-CAR 


I 2 I 


* 

and  nausea,  then  comes  vertigo  and  weakness  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing; fainting  fits  follow,  and  blood  flows  from  the  eyes,  nose, 
and  lips.  Those  who  have  weak  lungs  are  liable  to  hemorrhages; 
and  those  whose  hearts  are  weak  are  liable  to  drop  dead.  It  is 
especially  hard  on  full-blooded  and  stout  people  and  those  ad- 
dicted to  liquor  and  high  living,  but  healthy,  thin  people  of  tem- 
perate habits  soon  get  over  it. 


CHAPTER  Xlll 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANTES 

The  Journey  up  the  Mountains  from  Mollendo  to  Puno  — Across  the 
Pampa  de  Islay  — A Visit  to  Arequipa,  the  chief  City  of  Southern 
Peru  — The  Harvard  Observatory,  and  its  wonderful  Photographs 
of  the  Southern  Heavens  — Mount  Misti,  the  highest  Meteorolog- 
ical Observatory  on  Earth  — The  Plateau  of  Peru,  and  its  Curious 
People. 

am  in  the  attic  of  the  South  American  continent,  in  the 
heart  of  the  Andes,  on  what,  with  the  exception  of 
Tibet,  is  the  loftiest  tableland  of  the  globe.  At  my  feet 
lies  Lake  Titicaca,  and  looking  down  upon  me  is  the  snowy  peak 
of  Sorata,  which,  next  to  Aconcagua,  is  the  highest  of  the  Andes. 
For  the  past  week  I have  been  travelling  in  these  mountains, 
among  which  are  the  highest  places  of  the  earth  where  people  live. 
Back  of  Lima  I visited  a village  more  than  three  miles  above 
the  sea;  there  are  mining  camps  near  Titicaca  at  an  elevation  of 
16,000  feet;  and  during  my  railroad  journey  to  Puno,  where  I am 
now  writing,  we  stopped  for  water  at  Vincocoya,  near  a locomo- 
tive roundhouse  which  is  higher  up  in  the  air  than  Pike’s  Peak. 

Leaving  Lima  I went  south  by  sea  to  Mollendo,  and  thence 
to  Puno  over  one  of  the  steepest  railroads  of  the  world.  I am 
now  three  hundred  miles  inland  from  the  Pacific,  on  the  mighty 
plateau  of  Titicaca,  which  is  upheld  between  two  of  the  Andean 
ranges  at  a height  of  more  than  12,000  feet  above  the  sea. 

The  wonders  of  the  Andes  grow  upon  me.  Their  scenery 
here  is  as  grand  perhaps  as  at  any  point  in  the  4,000  miles  of 
their  length.  Think  of  peaks  which  pierce  the  skies  at  four 
miles  above  the  level  of  the  ocean.  Let  them  be  covered  with 
glaciers,  snow,  and  ice.  Make  a wall  of  them,  bathe  their  feet 
in  a lake  of  silver  studded  with  emerald  islands,  paint  their  sides 
and  tops  with  the  vivid  colours,  shades,  and  tints  of  the  Andean 
skies,  and  you  have  a faint  idea  of  my  surroundings. 

(122) 


SNOWFIELDS  AROUND  ACONCAGUA  (Alt.  23,900  feet) 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


1 25 


The  journey  up  the  Andes  was  a continuous  panorama.  I am 
on  the  Pacific  ocean  in  front  of  Mollendo.  There  it  lies,  a shabby 
wooden  town  on  the  ragged  edge  of  the  Peruvian  desert.  Our 
ship  has  cast  anchor  in  the  harbour,  lying  outside,  for  the  surf 
rolls  in  with  great  force,  striking  the  black  rocks  and  sending  the 
diamond  spray  fifty  feet  into  the  air.  It  is  so  rough  that  the 
baggage  has  to  be  lowered  with  ropes  into  the  boat  which  is  com- 
ing to  the  side  of  the  steamer.  I jump  far  down  to  get  into  the 
boat,  feeling  my  stomach  rise  as  I sink  into  the  deep. 

As  our  brawny  coffee-coloured  boatmen  pull  for  the  wharf,  we 
roll  about  terribly.  We  pass  between  huge  rocks,  now  grazing  a 
great  boulder,  and  now  running  into  a lighter  which  is  bringing 
out  a cargo  of  goods  to  the  steamer.  It  is  difficult  to  land,  and 
I pay  four  men  two  dollars  to  carry  my  trunks  up  the  hill  to 
the  custom-house. 

A little  later  I am  seated  in  the  railroad  car  which  is  to  take 
me  over  the  Andes.  The  first  stopping-place  is  to  be  Arequipa, 
which,  though  only  a hundred  miles  inland,  is  higher  up  in  the 
air  than  the  top  of  Mount  Washington.  Our  train  first  skirts  the 
coast,  and  then  shoots  off  into  the  bare  foothills  of  the  Andes. 
There  is  not  a shrub,  not  a vestige  of  green.  We  climb  up  the 
hills,  now  winding  about  in  horseshoe  curves,  and  now  seeing  the 
tracks  over  which  we  have  passed  running  parallel  with  us,  but 
far  below.  Now  we  are  on  the  side  of  a mountain  facing  the 
ocean.  The  sky-blue  Pacific,  hazy  and  smoky,  stretches  on  and 
on  toward  the  west  until  its  delicate  tint  fades  into  that  of  the 
sky.  A patch  of  gray  sand  skirts  the  foot  of  the  brown  hills, 
separated  from  the  blue  water  by  the  silvery  surf  which  is  dash- 
ing its  waves  on  the  shore. 

The  scenery  changes  at  every  puff  of  the  locomotive.  No- 
where does  Mother  Earth  wear  more  royal  garments  than  here. 
At  times  the  Andes  look  like  masses  of  blue  and  brown  plush. 
The  clouds,  although  of  a fleecy  whiteness,  so  interrupt  the  rays 
of  the  sun  that  they  cast  shadows  of  velvet  upon  the  hoary  hills, 
and  at  times  it  seems  as  though  the  ink-bottles  of  the  heavens 
had  been  spattered  over  the  mountains.  In  other  places  the  sun 
tints  the  mountains  with  delicate  blues,  which  fade  into  lighter 
blues  in  the  distance,  until  the  whole  range  seems  a billowy, 
waving  sea  of  blue,  dusted  with  silver,  rolling  on  and  on  until  at 
last  it  loses  itself  in  a silver-blue  sky. 


126  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Winding  in  and  out  among  such  hills  we  rise  to  the  extensive 
desert,  the  Pampa  de  Islay.  Here  everything  is  gray  or  dazzling 
white.  Huge  mountains  of  travelling  sands,  tons  of  bleached 
bones  of  animals  which  have  died  trying  to  cross  the  desert,  meet 
the  eye ; the  only  things  apparently  living  are  the  mirages  which, 
in  the  shapes  of  cool  lakes,  inverted  cities,  or  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion, now  and  then  meet  the  thirsty  traveller’s  eye. 

At  the  little  town  of  Vitor,  a mile  above  sea-level,  we  come 
to  the  end  of  the  pampas,  and  then  again  begin  to  ascend.  We 


AREQUIPA,  PERU 


are  soon  in  ragged  hills.  We  travel  among  the  clouds,  and  close 
our  first  day’s  journey  at  Arequipa,  in  the  midst  of  the  desert, 
7,500  feet  above  our  starting-point. 

Arequipa  is  the  second  city  of  Peru.  It  lies  in  the  little  val- 
ley of  the  Chile  river,  whose  waters  here  make  green  about  fifty 
square  miles  of  irrigable  land.  The  city  is  one  of  the  neatest, 
prettiest,  and  brightest  of  South  America.  It  is  more  than  four 
hundred  years  old,  and  has  been  battered  and  knocked  to  pieces 
by  the  earthquakes  of  the  past;  but  it  looks  as  though  it  had 
come  out  of  a bandbox,  and  seems  almost  brand-new.  The 


(127)  A STREET  IN  AREQUIPA,  PERU 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES  I 29 

houses  are  chiefly  one-story  stone  boxes,  with  walls  painted  in 
the  most  delicate  tints  of  blue,  pink,  cream,  green,  and  gold. 
I mailed  my  letters  in  a post  office  tinted  in  ashes  of  roses,  I 
bought  fruit  for  breakfast  in  a sky-blue  fruit  store,  and  cashed 
a draft  on  London  in  a bank  whose  outer  walls  were  the  colour 
of  gold. 

Another  peculiarity  of  Arequipa  is  its  vault-like  rooms.  The 
stores  are  vaults  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  wide,  and  from  ten  to 
thirty  feet  deep,  with  doors  fronting  the  streets.  In  many  of 
them  there  is  no  way  out  at  the  back,  and  the  only  light  except 
that  from  the  door  comes  through  holes  in  the  roof.  I ate  my 

dinner  at  the  hotel  in  a vault,  I was  shaved  in  a vault,  and 

slept  in  a vault.  I went  out  on  the  roof  once  or  twice  to  look 

over  the  city.  The  vaulted  roofs  give  it  the  appearance  of  a 

Chinese  graveyard  or  a city  of  bake-ovens. 

The  streets  of  Arequipa  are  narrow,  and  they  are  paved  with 
cobbles.  Down  one  side  of  each  street  flows  a stream  of  moun- 
tain water,  which,  as  it  gurgles  along,  makes  you  dream  of  rain, 
so  that  when  you  awake  in  the  morning  you  go  to  the  window 
to  see  if  it  is  really  clear  or  not.  In  Arequipa  it  rains  only  a 
part  of  the. year,  but  when  it  does  rain,  it  pours.  At  such  times 
the  streets  are  flooded,  and  the  water  from  the  roofs  is  carried 
out  through  tin  pipes  about  as  thick  as  a broomstick  to  just  over 
the  middle  of  the  sidewalk,  where  it  flows  down  the  necks  of  the 
unwary  passers-by. 

Every  house  in  Arequipa  faces  the  sidewalk,  every  window  is 
covered  with  iron  bars,  and  the  locks  on  the  doors  are  of  mam- 
moth size,  so  that  the  houses  look  like  small  fortresses.  The 
barred  windows  and  locked  doors,  however,  are  not  to  keep 
thieves  out,  but  to  cage  the  girls  in.  The  windows  have  seats 
behind  the  bars,  but  no  Peruvian  beau  stops  to  chat  at  them 
with  his  lady-love.  The  bars  are  as  thick  as  one’s  finger,  and 
so  close  together  that  the  most  ardent  lips  could  not  meet  be- 
tween them. 

The  seclusion  of  the  women  by  the  Spanish  people  is  prob- 
ably a relic  of  their  admixture  with  the  Moors,  centuries  ago. 
It  is  the  same  with  the  black  costumes  which  the  women  wear 
in  the  streets.  Not  long  ago  their  heads  were  wrapped  so  closely 
in  black  shawls  that  only  one  eye  showed  out,  the  features  being 
more  concealed  than  those  of  the  women  of  Morocco.  Now  the 


1 30  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

whole  face  is  exposed,  and  many  of  the  women  of  the  upper 
classes  wear  hats. 

The  Peruvian  parent  believes  in  keeping  his  daughters  some- 
what secluded.  The  custom  here  is  the  same  as  in  Colombia, 
Ecuador,  and  other  Spanish-American  countries.  When  a young 
man  calls  on  his  sweetheart  he  is  expected  to  entertain  the  whole 
family;  and  when  he  invites  her  to  the  bull-fight  he  takes  mamma, 
auntie,  and  old-maid  Sissy  with  him. 

The  most  interesting  thing  in  Arequipa  is  an  American  insti- 
tution— the  Harvard  observatory.  Some  years  ago  Uriah  H. 
Borden  gave  $200,000  to  Harvard  College  with  the  understanding 
that  it  was  to  be  used  to  establish  an  observatory  at  the  best 
place  in  the  world  for  the  study  of  the  stars  and  meteorological 
conditions.  The  college  authorities  first  tried  different  points  in 
Colorado  and  California,  and  then  sent  an  expedition  to  South 
America.  The  scientists  of  this  expedition  first  experimented  at 
a place  in  the  mountains  back  of  Lima,  6,600  feet  above  the  sea. 
In  1890  they  removed  to  Arequipa,  and  there  established  an  ob- 
servatory which  has  become  one  of  the  great  scientific  centres  of 
the  world.  The  observatory  is  situated  back  of  the  city  at  an 
altitude  of  7,550  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is  in  a region  where  it 
is  said  there  are  more  clear  days  and  nights  to  the  year  than  al- 
most anywhere  else  on  the  globe.  There  are  fully  nine  months 
when  the  sky  is  perfectly  clear,  and  the  rest  of  the  year  is  such 
that  astronomical  work  can  go  on  almost  all  the  year  round. 
Arequipa  has  also  the  advantage  of  being  south  of  the  equator, 
at  one  of  the  best  points  for  viewing  the  constellations  of  the 
southern  hemisphere. 

Americans  who  pride  themselves  on  having  beautiful  skies 
cannot  appreciate  what  the  words  mean  until  they  have  visited 
South  America.  Nothing  is  duplicated  in  the  heavens,  and  South 
America  has  stars  and  constellations  which  we  do  not  have  in 
the  north,  and  the  Milky  Way  south  of  the  equator  is  far  more 
brilliant  than  with  us.  You  have  all  heard  of  the  Southern  Cross, 
which  enthusiasts  say  looks  like  the  handwriting  of  God  on  the 
face  of  the  sky.  There  are  only  four  stars  in  it,  and  these  are 
so  comparatively  small  that  they  would  not  attract  attention  were 
it  not  for  their  configuration. 

The  best  records  of  the  southern  heavens  are  those  taken  by 
our  Harvard  scientists  at  Arequipa.  They  spend  their  nights 


GREAT  TELESCOPE  IN  AREQUIPA  OBSERVATORY 

(132) 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


133 


photographing  the  stars.  They  have  four  great  telescopes,  which 
night  after  night  throughout  the  year  are  pointed  at  the  skies. 
Each  telescope  has  a photographic  apparatus,  so  hung  and  so  con- 
nected with  fine  machinery  that  it  moves  with  the  stars  in  their 
courses,  so  that  their  images  can  be  registered  on  the  photo- 
graphic plates.  About  fifty  negatives  are  made  every  night,  and 
about  5,000  plates  are  annually  exposed  and  developed.  The  neg- 
atives are  shipped  at  once  to  the  University  of  Harvard,  at  Cam- 
bridge, Mass.,  where  they  are  kept  on  file  for  study  in  scientific 
work,  forming,  as  it  were,  an  astronomical  library  of  the  southern 
heavens.  At  the  same  time  the  scientists  of  Cambridge  are  al- 
ways watching  the  northern  heavens.  The  Arequipa  observatory 
takes  in  the  sky  from  the  equator  to  the  South  Pole,  and  the 
records  of  the  two  observatories  give  a view  of  the  heavens  as  a 
whole. 

Within  the  last  few  years  the  Arequipa  astronomers  have  es- 
tablished a meteorological  station  near  the  top  of  the  volcano  El 
Misti,  at  an  altitude  of  19,200  feet.  This  mountain  is  one  of  the 
highest  of  the  Andes.  It  is  just  back  of  Arequipa,  standing  out 
against  the  horizon  almost  alone  in  its  grandeur,  its  top  kissing 
the  sky  at  an  altitude  of  20,320  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is  more 
than  a mile  higher  than  our  observatory  on  Pike’s  Peak,  and  is 
over  3,500  feet  higher  than  any  other  scientific  station  of  the 
world.  The  site  of  the  station  is  on  the  edge  of  a huge  crater, 
which  now  and  then  sends  clouds  of  yellow  sulphurous  vapor  a 
thousand  feet  into  the  air. 

At  this  great  altitude,  nearly  four  miles  above  the  sea,  the 
Harvard  men  have  the  finest  of  scientific  instruments  for  regis- 
tering the  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  the  velocity  of  the  wind, 
the  pressure  of  the  barometer.  The  instruments  are,  of  course, 
automatic,  running  for  three  months  without  being  touched.  No 
one  could  live  at  such  an  altitude,  but  the  observers  go  up  pe- 
riodically to  get  the  records  and  re-wind  the  instruments.  The 
trip  is  a very  arduous  one.  Some  of  the  men  get  soroche,  or 
mountain  sickness,  and  many  cannot  make  the  trip  at  all. 

I left  Arequipa  in  the  early  morning,  and  occupied  the  whole 
day  in  going  over  the  coast  range  of  the  Andes  to  Lake  Titi- 
caca. The  trip  was  made  by  way  of  the  Puno  and  Arequipa 
Railroad,  one  of  the  most  expensive  ever  built,  the  cost  having 
been  $44,000,000,  or  about  $135,000  per  mile.  The  road,  includ- 
S.  A.— 9 


134  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

ing  the  branch  line  from  the  lake  toward  Cuzco,  the  famed  capi- 
tal of  the  Incas,  is  327  miles  long.  It  crosses  the  Andes  at  an 
altitude  of  14,666  feet,  and  has  but  few  tunnels,  though  many 
cuttings.  It  was  built  by  Mr.  Henry  Meiggs,  the  American  en- 
gineer, who  also  constructed  the  Oroyo  Railroad  from  Lima,  as 
already  described. 

The  present  manager  of  the  road  is  an  American,  and  all  the 
rolling-stock  is  of  the  American  pattern,  although  of  late  the  cars 
and  engines  have  been  made  in  the  company’s  shops  at  Arequipa. 
I visited  the  shops  and  found  about  four  hundred  Peruvian  la- 
bourers engaged  in  all  kinds  of  car  and  engine  construction.  The 
American  foreman  told  me  that  the  men  were  quite  as  good  me- 
chanics as  those  we  have  in  our  shops  at  home,  but  that  they 
worked  for  much  lower  wages.  Men  employed  in  the  shops  re- 
ceive seventy-five  cents  and  upwards  per  day.  Trackmen  and 
brakesmen  get  seventy-five  cents  a day,  conductors  from  $30  to 
$65  a month,  and  engineers  $roo  a month.  The  ordinary  day’s 
labour  is  one  of  nine  hours,  but  with  the  men  on  the  road  the 
day  lasts  without  extra  pay  until  the  cars  come  in.  Trades 
unions  are  unknown,  and  the  men  never  strike. 

Arequipa  is  the  half-way  station  on  this  railroad.  The  trains 
all  stop  there  over  night,  the  remainder  of  the  journey  requiring 
a day.  After  leaving  Arequipa  we  rose  rapidly,  and  at  eleven 
o’clock  were  two  miles  and  a-half  above  the  sea.  This  was  at 
the  station  of  Punta  de  Arrieros,  consisting  of  a few  stone  huts 
thatched  with  straw,  and  a dining-hall  made  of  Oregon  pine.  At 
one  end  of  the  dining-room  there  was  a bar  presided  over  by  a 
fat  Peruvian  girl.  The  breakfast  table  was  at  the  opposite  end. 
and  the  meal,  which  cost  fifty  cents,  was  quite  as  good  as  any 
fifty-cent  meal  served  at  our  railroad  stations  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  The  bill  of  fare  was:  chicken  soup  with  rice,  well- 
browned  codfish  balls,  boiled  beef  and  green  peas,  beefsteak  with 
onions  and  red  pepper,  a sweet  omelet,  and  some  very  good  tea. 
After  breakfast  I bought  four  clingstone  peaches  of  an  Indian 
girl  for  two  cents,  and  three  oranges  for  a nickel.  This  fruit 
came  from  the  irrigated  valleys  of  the  lowlands. 

On  the  high  plateau  over  which  we  travelled  there  was  only 
a scanty  growth  of  moss-like  grass.  There  were  no  trees  and  no 
cultivated  crops  except  little  patches  of  potatoes,  barley,  or  quinua 
about  the  widely  scattered  mud  huts.  The  barley  is  grown  only 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANDES 


J35 


for  forage,  as  it  will  not  ripen  so  high  up  in  the  air.  The  quinua 
is  a plant  peculiar  to  the  Andean  highlands.  It  is  like  a cross 
between  the  red  dockweed  and  the  mullen  plant,  has  yellow  or 
red  leaves,  and  seeds  of  white,  each  about  as  big  as  a pin-head. 
Its  leaves  are  eaten  like  spinach,  and  its  seeds  are  threshed  out 
and  boiled  with  water  or  milk  into  a mush,  looking  when  cooked 
much  like  oatmeal  or  ground  hominy.  The  quinua  is  cultivated, 
being  planted  in  rows,  and  hoed.  It  is  the  hardiest  food  grain 
in  the  world. 

After  crossing  the  coast  range  of  the  Andes  the  grass  became 
greener,  and  we  passed  through  a vast  plain  of  rich  moss.  We 
went  by  beautiful  lakes,  and  rode  over  plains  dotted  here  and 
there  with  the  mud  huts  of  Indians.  We  passed  large  flocks  of 
llamas,  alpacas,  and  sheep,  each  flock  tended  by  an  Indian 
woman,  who  wore  a black  or  blue  dress,  and  a queerly-shaped 
hat  not  unlike  the  turned-up  broad  brims  of  the  Catholic  priests. 
Each  shepherdess  had  a spinning  spool  in  her  hand,  and  spun 
away  as  she  watched. 

At  the  stations  we  saw  many  Indians.  The  men  wore  bright- 
coloured  shawls,  or  ponchos,  and  wide  pantaloons  slit  up  at  the 
back  as  far  as  the  knee.  Each  had  on  a knit  cap  much  like  a 
nightcap,  with  flaps  coming  down  over  the  ears,  and  on  the  top 
of  this  a little  round  felt  hat,  which  was  apparently  more  for 
ornament  than  warmth.  With  the  men  were  women  dressed  like 
those  in  the  fields.  All  were  in  their  bare  feet,  although  the 
weather  was  bitterly  cold,  and  the  hail  at  times  came  down  in 
torrents,  whitening  the  ground. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


STEAMBOATING  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 

Lake  Titicaca,  the  Highest  of  Navigable  Waters  — It  is  half  as  Large 
as  Lake  Erie,  and  twice  as  high  up  in  the  air  as  Mount  Washing- 
ton— How  Steel  Steamers  were  brought  to  it  on  the  Backs  of 
Men  and  Mules  over  Passes  higher  than  Pike’s  Peak — Its  Sacred 
Islands,  and  their  wonderful  Ruins  — The  Curious  Inhabitants  who 
Live  upon  its  Shores  — Balsas,  or  Native  Boats  made  of  Straw  — 
Curious  Animals  about  Titicaca- — The  Llama,  the  VicuSJa,  and  the 
Alpaca. 

teamboating  above  the  clouds;  floating  calmly  on  the  high- 
est navigable  waters  of  the  globe;  sailing  under  the  gla- 
cial snows  of  the  loftiest  peaks  of  the  Andes,  so  near 
the  sky  that  heaven  and  earth  seem  to  meet  around  you,  and  to 
make  you  feel  that  you  are  on  the  roof  of  the  world; — such 
have  been  my  experiences  for  a day  and  night  on  Lake  Titicaca. 
As  I write,  the  United  States  is  sweltering  under  the  hot  sun  of 
an  American  summer.  It  is  always  winter  on  Lake  Titicaca  — a 
cold,  wet  winter  during  half  the  year,  and  a cold,  dry  winter  dur- 
ing the  remainder.  At  times  the  winds  from  the  Andes  sweep 
over  the  waters  like  a blizzard,  and  again  it  is  as  calm  as  the 
Dead  Sea  in  midsummer.  The  air  is  now  as  fresh  as  a sea-breeze. 
It  is  cold  and  bracing,  but  so  rare  that  when  I walk  fast  my 
heart  leaps  up  into  my  throat.  Some  of  you  often  go  to  Mount 
Washington  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the  city.  Lake  Titicaca  is  more 
than  twice  as  high  up  in  the  air  as  the  top  of  Mount  Washing- 
ton, and  it  is  situated  amid  scenery  which  is  infinitely  more  grand. 
Titicaca  is  almost  as  big  as  Lake  Erie.  It  has  a greater  average 
depth  than  Lake  Superior,  and  its  scenery  is  a combination  of 
the  beauties  of  Lakes  Lucerne  and  Geneva  and  of  our  beautiful 
Lake  Champlain.  Our  great  lakes  freeze  over  during  the  winter. 
Titicaca  never  freezes. 

I have  written  of  the  skies  of  the  Andes.  Those  of  Titicaca 
have  all  the  beauties  of  the  Andean  heavens  combined  with  others 
(136) 


STEAMBOATING  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS  137 

peculiarly  their  own.  I cannot  describe  the  sense  of  loftiness  one 
has  here.  The  clouds  rise  up  about  the  shores  of  the  lake  like 
walls  upon  which  a canvas  of  heavenly  blue  fits  closely  down, 
making  one  feel  that  beyond  the  walls  there  are  mighty  depths, 
and  that  if  one  should  sail  through  them  he  would  drop  into 
space. 

The  air  is  so  clear  that  you  can  see  for  miles.  Soon  after  leav- 
ing Puno,  Peru,  I was  shown  the  sacred  blue  island  of  Titicaca, 
fifty  miles  away.  A little  later  on  other  islands  came  into  view, 
apparently  floating  on  the  waters  as  though  they  were  balloons 
or  balls,  and  not  the  outcroppings  of  the  highest  mountain  chain 
of  our  hemisphere.  One  island  rose  out  of  the  water  in  the 
shape  of  a gigantic  mushroom  of  soft  blue  velvet;  another  looked 
like  a mammoth  whale,  whose  head  and  tail  stood  out  high  above 
the  surface  of  the  lake.  These  curious  shapes  were  optical  illu- 
sions due  to  a peculiarity  of  the  atmosphere,  for  the  islands,  when 
we  reached  them,  looked  much  like  those  on  other  waters. 

Lake  Titicaca  is  well  known  from  text-books  on  geography. 
They  tell  us  it  lies  in  the  Andes  about  half-way  between  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama  and  Cape  Horn,  12,550  feet  above  the  sea. 
They  represent  it  as  oval  in  shape,  and  state  that  it  is  120  miles 
long  and  57  miles  wide,  and  that  it  has  an  area  of  5,000  square 
miles.  Some  of  these  statements  are  true:  others  are  merely  con- 
jecture. The  lake  has  in  reality  never  been  carefully  surveyed. 
It  has  great  bays  which  have  never  been  explored;  in  places  it 
winds  in  and  out  like  a river,  affording  a succession  of  beautiful 
views  of  islands,  mountains,  and  coast. 

In  crossing  from  Peru  to  Bolivia  we  sailed  a distance  of  no 
miles  over  water  which  was  in  many  places,  the  captain  said,  more 
than  1,000  feet  deep.  Lake  Superior  has  an  average  depth  of 
something  like  600  feet.  Some  parts  of  the  bottom  of  Lake  Titi- 
caca have  never  been  reached,  and  the  captain  told  me  that,  if 
he  should  land  on  certain  parts  of  Titicaca  island,  he  would  have 
to  cast  anchor  high  up  on  the  rocky  shores,  as  the  waters  which 
wash  them  are  so  deep  that  the  grappling-hooks  could  not  reach 
the  bottom. 

Think  of  a body  of  water  like  this  at  an  altitude  of  more 
than  two  miles  above  the  sea!  It  is  more  than  three  miles 
from  the  ocean,  in  a basin,  which,  next  to  Tibet,  is  the  loftiest 
inhabited  plateau  of  the  world;  remember  that  you  must  cross  a 


138  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

mighty  desert  and  climb  on  the  railroad  over  a pass  which  is 
nearly  three  miles  above  the  sea  to  get  to  it,  and  you  have  a 
slight  idea  of  Lake  Titicaca.  You  must  add,  however,  that, 
while  it  is  fed  by  the  snows  and  glaciers  of  the  Andes,  it  has 
itself  no  visible  outlet  to  either  ocean.  Nine  rivers  flow  into  it, 
but  only  one  carries  off  any  part  of  its  waters.  This  is  the 
Desaguadero,  which  connects  it  with  its  little  sister,  Lake  Poopo, 
which  lies  about  280  miles  farther  south  on  this  same  Bolivian 
plateau.  In  this  distance  the  river  has  a fall  of  500  feet.  It  is 
a rushing,  turbulent  stream,  big  enough  to  be  navigated  by 
steamers  for  a part  of  its  length.  It  carries  off  a large  volume 
of  water,  but  Lake  Poopo  has  no  outlet  to  the  sea;  and,  notwith- 
standing this  drain,  Lake  Titicaca  remains  at  the  same  level, 
whether  the  season  be  wet  or  dry,  year  in  and  year  out. 

Lake  Titicaca  has  many  beautiful  islands.  Most  of  them  are 
ragged  mountain  peaks  rising  out  of  the  water.  They  consist  of 
rocks  with  a thin  coating  of  soil.  Eight  of  the  islands  are  in- 
habited, and  are  cultivated  to  the  very  tops  of  the  mountains. 
If  the  United  States  were  as  carefully  tilled  as  this  part  of  Peru, 
it  would,  I believe,  furnish  food  for  all  the  world,  and  leave 
enough  grain  to  glut  the  Chicago  markets  during  a corner  on 
wheat.  Patches  of  soil  no  larger  than  a bed-quilt  are  walled  with 
stones  and  carefully  tilled.  Bits  of  land  between  the  rocks  are 
green  with  scanty  crops  of  potatoes,  barley,  and  quinua,  the  only 
things  that  will  grow  at  this  altitude.  I see  people  working  on 
the  sides  of  the  hills  where  they  almost  have  to  hold  on  with 
one  hand  while  they  use  their  rude  little  hoes  with  the  other. 
This  grubbing  for  a bare  existence  goes  on  over  the  greater  part 
of  the  plateau  in  which  Lake  Titicaca  lies,  the  plateau  which 
was  once  the  seat  of  the  Inca  civilization. 

Lake  Titicaca  was,  indeed,  the  centre  of  a mighty  empire 
generations  before  that  of  the  Incas,  for  on  its  shores  still  stand 
ruins  so  old  that  the  Incas  could  not  tell  the  Spaniards  anything 
about  them.  They  said  that  the  mighty  monuments  were  made 
by  a race  of  giants  who  lived  about  the  lake  before  the  sun  ap- 
peared in  the  heavens.  These  ruins  lie  near  the  little  town  of 
Tiahuanacu.  They  cover  an  area  of  about  three  square  miles, 
and  consist  of  the  remains  of  massive  walls  and  terraced  mounds, 
and  the  ruins  of  a great  edifice  supposed  to  have  been  a temple. 
The  ruins  show  that  the  building  covered  about  four  acres;  it 


STEAMBOATING  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS 


139 


was  made  of  great  blocks  of  hewn  black  stone,  each  36  feet  long 
and  30  inches  thick.  The  stones,  like  those  of  the  buildings  of 
Cuzco,  were  fitted  together  without  mortar  so  carefully  that  it 
was  impossible  to  insert  a knife-blade  between  them.  From 
these  ruins  some  very  curious  archaeological  relics  have  been 
taken,  many  of  the  most  valuable  having  been  secured  by  Pro- 
fessor Adolf  Bandolier,  who  is  spending  his  life  here  as  a col- 
lector for  the  New  York  Museum. 

Professor  Bandolier  has  made  many  new  discoveries  about 
Lake  Titicaca,  and  from  his  researches  he  is  inclined  to  believe 
that  much  which  has  been  published  about  this  region  is  pure 
fiction.  He  has  spent  months  upon  Titicaca  island,  which  some 
authorities  claim  was  the  Garden  of  Eden  of  the  Inca  mythology, 
the  spot  on  which  their  Adam  and  Eve  first  lived  on  earth,  and 
whence  they  started  out  to  found  Cuzco  and  build  up  the  human 
race.  According  to  this  theory  our  first  parents  were  the  child- 
ren of  the  sun.  There  were  two  of  them,  Manco  Capac  and 
Mama  Oello,  his  sister-wife.  On  this  account,  says  Squier,  one  of 
the  authorities  on  Lake  Titicaca,  the  Incas  considered  the  lake, 
and  especially  Titicaca  island,  holy.  On  the  island  they  built 
temples  and  wonderful  palaces,  and  even  brought  soil  from  the 
mainland,  so  that  corn  might  be  grown.  According  to  one  of  the 
old  chroniclers,  who,  Professor  Bandolier  thinks,  had  a very  lively 
imagination,  this  corn  was  considered  so  sacred  that,  when  a grain 
of  it  was  put  in  one  of  the  public  warehouses,  it  sanctified  and 
preserved  all  other  grains,  and  when  placed  in  a private  granary 
it  insured  the  owner’s  having  food  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

There  are  to-day  many  ruins  on  Titicaca  island,  and  the  very 
rock  on  which  Manco  Capac  and  his  sister-wife  stepped  when 
they  dropped  from  the  sun  is  shown.  According  to  tradition,  this 
rock  was  once  plated  with  gold  and  kept  covered  with  a veil. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  island  are  chiefly  Quichua  and  Aymara 
Indians,  the  descendants  of  those  who  were  so  numerous  about 
the  lake  ages  ago.  They  now  live  in  little  huts  of  mud  or  stone, 
thatched  with  straw,  and  show  no  signs  of  having  had  gorgeous 
temples  or  the  more  extensive  civilization  which  they  possessed 
when  the  Incas  were  their  masters.  They  are  Catholics,  and  are 
superstitious  in  the  extreme. 

The  steamboats  on  Lake  Titicaca  might  be  called  the  steam- 
ers of  the  heavens.  They  sail  at  times  in  and  out  of  the  clouds, 
and  are  nearest  the  sky  of  any  similar  craft  on  earth.  Think  of 


140  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

lifting  an  iron  ship  of  600  tons  over  a pass  higher  than  Pike’s 
Peak.  This  is  what  was  done  with  the  steamer  Clioya  on  which 
I took  a trip.  The  ship  was  built  in  Scotland,  brought  to  Mol- 
lendo  in  pieces,  loaded  on  the  cars,  and  carried  over  the  Andes 
to  Puno,  and  there  put  together.  It  now  sails  as  well,  and  fur- 
nishes its  passengers  with  as  comfortable  accommodations,  as  any 
steamer  of  its  size  on  American  waters.  It  is  as  beautiful  as  a 
gentleman’s  yacht,  and  it  can  easily  make  twelve  knots  an  hour. 
It  is  propelled  by  a screw,  and  its  fuel  is  Australian  coal,  which 
is  brought  over  more  than  7,000  miles  of  water  and  lifted  on  the 
railroad  over  the  Andes  to  Puno,  at  the  edge  of  the  lake.  By 
the  time  it  reaches  the  ship  the  coal  costs  about  $25  in  gold  per 
ton,  but  the  traffic  on  the  lake  is  so  great  that  the  steamers  pay 
for  themselves  and  their  running  expenses  many  times  over. 

There  are  three  other  steamers  on  Lake  Titicaca;  and  there  are 
smaller  steamers  on  the  Desaguadero  river,  which  carry  copper,  sil- 
ver, and  tin  to  the  lake  from  the  rich  mining  region  of  Oruro,  Boli- 
via. The  vessels  now  belong  to  the  Peruvian  corporation,  although 
the  line  was  originally  established  by  the  Peruvian  government, 
and  the  first  steamers  were  placed  on  the  lake  at  government 
expense,  costing,  it  is  said,  more  than  their  weight  in  silver. 
They  were  built  in  England,  and  shipped  in  pieces  to  the  Peru- 
vian coast.  Here  they  were  loaded  upon  the  backs  of  men  and 
mules  and  carried  step  by  step  up  the  Andes.  It  took  ten  years 
after  landing  to  get  them  to  Lake  Titicaca. 

Much  of  the  smaller  traffic  on  the  lake  is  done  in  balsas,  or 
boats  made  of  straw.  I can  see  a dozen  straw  boats  as  I write. 
Some  are  filled  with  Indians;  and  one  has  a mule,  a donkey,  and 
a llama  in  addition  to  its  human  freight.  The  captain  of  each 
boat  is  an  Aymara  Indian,  who  stands  up  and  poles  the  boat 
when  close  to  the  shore,  and  manages  the  sail  when  out  on  the 
lake.  Balsas  are  peculiar  to  Lake  Titicaca.  They  were  used  there 
when  the  Spaniards  came,  and  before  the  advent  of  steamers 
they  carried  all  the  freight  of  the  lakes.  They  are  rafts  made  of 
rolls  of  straw-like  reeds  so  tightly  woven  together  that  they  keep 
out  the  water,  and  they  have  straw  sails.  An  extra  roll  around 
the  top  of  the  balsa  prevents  the  passengers  from  falling  out. 

The  ports  on  Lake  Titicaca  do  a large  business.  Most  of 
the  freight  from  Bolivia  is  sent  over  the  lake  to  Puno,  thence 
down  the  railroad  to  the  seaport  of  Mollendo.  Cargo  is  brought 
hundreds  of  miles  to  Chililaya  on  mules,  and  on  steamer  days  it 


STEAMBOATING  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS  141 

is  not  uncommon  to  see  a thousand  mules  being  loaded  and  un- 
loaded at  the  wharves.  In  1895  more  than  $1,000,000  worth  of 
imports  went  into  Bolivia  over  Lake  Titicaca,  and  more  than 
$300,000  worth  of  Bolivian  goods  were  shipped  out.  There  are 
now  steamers  weekly  from  Puno  to  Chililaya,  and  nearly  all  the 
passengers  and  freight  to  and  from  La  Paz,  the  largest  city  of 
Bolivia,  go  by  this  route. 

Much  of  the  freight  is  brought  to  Lake  Titicaca  on  llamas, 
the  little  animals  which  form  the  freight-carriers  of  the  Andes. 
They  are  to  be  seen  everywhere  in  all  parts  of  the  plateaus  of 
Bolivia  and  Peru.  I pass  llama  trains  every  day,  and  see  llama 
flocks  feeding  on  the  plains.  The  llama  is  one  of  the  aristocrats 
of  quadrupedal  creation,  and  rightly  so,  for  he  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  four-footed  beasts.  He  has  a camel’s  head,  a 
sheep’s  body,  and  the  feet  and  legs  of  a deer.  From  the  sole  of 
his  hoof  to  the  top  of  his  head  he  measures  about  four  feet  and 
a-half,  and  from  his  feet  to  his  shoulders  about  three  feet.  The 
female  is  usually  smaller  than  the  male,  and  not  quite  so  strong, 
but  her  wool  is  much  finer. 

Llamas  hold  their  heads  high  up  in  the  air  as  they  walk, 
treading  the  earth  as  though  they  owned  it.  They  are  very 
stubborn,  but  are  not  sulky  like  the  camel,  although  apparently 
fully  as  proud.  When  you  load  a camel  he  cries  like  a baby. 
The  tears  roll  down  his  cheeks,  and  at  times  he  fairly  bellows 
with  grief.  As  he  marches  off  with  his  load  he  pouts  and  pouts, 
and  groans  and  groans.  The  llama  carries  his  burden  with  a 
proud  air,  scanning  the  landscape  with  his  eyes  as  he  goes,  and 
pricking  up  his  ears  like  a skye-terrier  at  every  new  thing.  He 
will  carry  only  so  much,  his  usual  load  being  100  pounds.  If 
you  put  on  more,  he  does  not  cry  or  groan,  but  calmly  kneels 
down  and  waits  until  the  load  is  lightened. 

If  you  make  a llama  angry,  he  does  not  bite  you,  as  does  the 
camel.  He  shows  his  contempt  by  spitting  upon  you.  I would 
rather  be  bitten  by  ten  camels  than  be  spat  upon  by  one  llama. 
The  spittle  has  a most  disagreeable  smell.  If  it  touches  you  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  get  rid  of  the  odor.  The  llama  chews  the 
cud,  like  a cow,  and  he  has  a special  reservoir  somewhere  in  his 
anatomy  well  stored  with  saliva  for  such  occasions. 

Llamas  are  gentle  when  well  treated.  They  seem  fond  of 
their  masters,  who  are  usually  Indians.  The  Indians  are  also 
fond  of  the  llamas;  they  pet  them  and  talk  to  them  as  though 


I42  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

they  were  human  beings.  They  often  dye  the  wool,  and  some- 
times tie  bright-coloured  ribbons  through  holes  which  they  make  in 
the  llama’s  ears.  When  on  a journey  they  always  walk  beside  the 
beasts,  stopping  from  time  to  time  to  let  the  animals  graze.  Every- 
where on  the  highlands  you  see  Indian  women  spinning  llama 
wool  from  the  fleeces  and  weaving  it  into  cloth.  The  wool  is 
coarser  and  longer  than  sheep’s  wool,  but  it  serves  to  make  the 
ponchos  and  the  rough  dress  of  the  people  of  the  highlands. 

The  meat  of  the  llama  is  eaten  by  the  Indians.  It  is  of  a 
soft,  spongy  nature,  and  of  a disagreeable  flavour.  The  llama  also 
furnishes  the  people’s  fuel.  There  are  no  trees  or  bushes,  and  no 
one  thinks  of  using  fires  for  warmth.  Fires  are  only  for  cook- 
ing, and  the  only  fuel  is  the  droppings  of  the  llama.  Every  hut 
has  a pile  of  such  fuel  beside  its  fireplace,  and  the  better  classes 
of  houses  have  special  quarters  for  it.  La  Paz,  a city  of  nearly 
50,000  people,  depends  entirely  on  llama  manure  for  its  fuel;  and 
the  steam  which  moves  its  electric-light  plant  is  created  by  a fire 
of  this  manure.  The  cooking  is  all  done  over  such  fires,  and  for 
this  reason  I have  for  the  time  given  up  such  things  as  broiled 
beefsteaks  and  mutton  chops,  and  am  now  sticking  religiously  to 
soups,  fries,  and  other  victuals  cooked  in  pots  or  pans.  In  this 
connection  it  seems  a curious  dispensation  of  Providence  that  the 
llama  has  one  place  for  making  his  fuel  deposits.  When  possible 
he  uses  the  same  place  every  day,  so  that  the  manure  is  easily 
saved. 

Llamas  have  curious  habits  as  to  their  love  affairs.  The  fe- 
male, I am  told,  picks  out  the  male  she  specially  loves,  and  makes 
all  the  advances.  It  has  been  stated  that  the  female  llamas  are 
not  allowed  to  carry  burdens.  This  is  a mistake,  for  the  freight 
trains  of  llamas  I have  seen,  numbering  many  hundreds,  have 
had  almost  as  many  females  as  males. 

Other  animals  of  the  same  genus  as  the  llama  live  on  these 
highlands.  The  vicuna  is  smaller,  but  far  more  beautiful.  It 
runs  wild,  and  is  often  hunted  for  its  fur.  The  alpaca,  which 
is  also  smaller  than  the  llama,  is  celebrated  for  its  fine  wool. 
There  are  many  alpacas  about  Lake  Titicaca.  The  animals  are 
kept  in  flocks,  and  are  herded  as  we  herd  sheep.  They  are  of 
different  colours,  generally  black  or  brown.  The  wool  of  the 
young  is  as  fine  and  soft  as  silk,  and  after  a year’s  growth  it 
becomes  a foot  long.  Several  million  pounds  of  it  are  exported 
every  year,  most  of  it  going  to  Europe. 


(144) 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  LA  PAZ 


Strange  Features  of  Life  and  Business  in  the  Heart  of  Bolivia  — The  In- 
dians AND  THE  CHOLOS  — MULES  AND  DONKEYS  AS  BEER-WAGGONS,  BreAD- 
Carts,  and  Hearses  — A Visit  to  the  Markets  — The  curious  Vege- 
tables and  Fruits  of  interior  South  America — Frozen  Potatoes  — 
Beans  that  taste  like  Ice-Cream,  and  Indian  Corn  that  makes  Flour 
without  Grinding. 


here  is  no  city  in  the  world  like  La  Paz.  Away  back 
from  the  Pacific  ocean,  beyond  some  of  the  highest 
mountains  of  our  hemisphere,  on  one  of  the  highest 
plateaus  of  the  earth,  it  lies  in  a little  basin  surrounded  by  nat- 
ural walls.  I have  seen  the  walls  of  Peking,  of  Jerusalem,  and  of 
Seoul,  the  capital  of  Korea.  The  greatest  of  them  is  not  over 
fifty  feet  high.  La  Paz  has  walls  a thousand  feet  high,  and  on 
one  side  of  it  towers  the  snow-capped  peak  of  Illimani,  one  of 
the  three  highest  of  the  Andes,  which  kisses  the  morning  and 
evening  suns  at  an  altitude  of  about  four  miles  above  the  sea. 
Man  made  the  walls  of  other  cities:  God  made  the  walls  of  La 
Paz.  At  La  Paz  the  great  Bolivian  plateau,  which  stretches 
away  to  the  north  and  south  almost  as  level  as  the  waters  of 
Lake  Titicaca,  abruptly  drops  so  as  to  form  a great  pit  1,000 
feet  deep.  In  this  pit  the  city  is  built,  its  walls  of  green  slop- 
ing almost  precipitously  upward  on  all  sides  but  one,  where  the 
Andes,  ragged  and  torn,  rise  in  rocky  grandeur  in  all  the  colours 
of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado. 

Coming  to  La  Paz  on  the  stage  from  Lake  Titicaca  you  ride 
for  forty-five  miles  across  a flat  plain,  by  villages  of  mud  huts, 
through  little  farms  of  barley,  quinua,  and  potatoes.  On  your  left 
is  the  mountain  wall  of  the  great  Sorata  range,  the  highest  but 
one  of  the  Andes.  Away  to  the  right  are  the  hills  of  the  coast 
range;  in  front  is  a seemingly  endless  plain.  The  team,  of  eight 
mules,  is  changed  every  three  hours.  If  you  sit  with  the  driver, 

(i45) 


146  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

as  I did,  you  look  in  vain  through  the  clear  air  for  the  city.  It 
is  nowhere  in  sight.  At  last,  on  the  brink  of  a precipice,  the 
mules  are  pulled  back  on  their  haunches,  the  stage  stops,  and 
there  below  you  lies  La  Paz.  It  is  so  far  down  that  you  can 
make  out  only  the  outlines.  You  see  a plain  covered  with  terra- 
cotta roofed  houses,  jumbled  together  along  narrow  streets.  Here 
and  there  is  a church;  at  one  end  is  the  big  white  penitentiary; 
and  just  under  you  is  the  cemetery,  an  enclosure  walled  with 
pigeon-holes,  in  which  the  dead  La  Pazites  are  stowed  away  at 
so  much  rent  per  year  until  their  descendants  forget  to  pay,  and 
the  holes  are  wanted  for  another  generation. 

In  getting  down  to  the  city  the  stage  winds  over  a road  that 
curves  in  and  out  in  loops  and  figures  of  8.  You  see  parallel 
roads  far  below  you,  and  at  last,  having  left  the  heights,  you 
gallop  over  the  cobblestone  pavements  of  La  Paz.  The  town  is 
one  of  hills  and  valleys.  Its  streets  go  up  and  down,  seeming 
unusually  steep  because  of  the  altitude,  which  so  rarities  the  air 
that  you  can  walk  only  a very  few  steps  without  stopping  to  rest. 

La  Paz  is  a perpetual  masquerade  of  bright  colours  and  curious 
scenes.  Even  the  houses  seem  more  fitted  for  the  stage  than  for 
real  life.  The  terra-cotta  roofs  look  so  clean  in  the  clear  air  that 
you  can  count  the  tiles  of  which  they  are  made.  The  houses 
have  walls  of  the  most  delicate  tints  of  pink,  sky-blue,  lavender, 
yellow,  cream,  and  green.  They  are  of  one  and  two  stories,  so  open 
to  the  street  that  you  can  see  much  that  goes  on  within.  The 
colours  worn  hy  the  people  on  the  streets  are  even  brighter  than 
those  of  the  houses.  For  every  white  man  in  the  city  there  are 
at  least  five  Indians,  whose  dresses  are  of  the  gayest  reds,  yel- 
lows, blues,  and  greens  that  aniline  dyes  combined  with  the 
Indian  taste  for  the  gaudy  can  make.  The  especially  bright 
garment  is  the  poncho,  or  blanket,  with  a hole  in  the  centre  for 
the  neck,  which  every  Indian  man  and  boy  wears.  Ponchos  are 
usually  made  in  stripes,  yellow,  green,  red,  and  black  being  the 
favorite  colours.  Every  Indian  has  also  a bright-coloured  knit  cap, 
with  ear-flaps  hanging  down  on  each  side  of  his  face,  and  some- 
times in  addition  a black  felt  hat.  He  wears  pantaloons  cut  full 
at  the  hips,  so  that  the  pockets  stick  wide  out  at  each  side.  The 
legs  of  his  trousers  are  full,  and  from  the  knee  down  at  the  back 
they  are  slit,  showing  what  at  first  seem  to  be  wide  drawers 
which  flop  about  the  ankles.  Closer  investigation,  however,  shows 


THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  LA  PAZ 


147 


that  they  are  merely  half  legs  of  white  cotton  sewed  fast  to  the 
inside  of  the  legs  of  the  trousers,  in  order  that  the  wearer  may 
more  easily  roll  up  the  latter  when  in  wet  grass  or  crossing  a 
stream.  The  Indian  women  wear  queer-shaped  felt  hats,  and 
their  dresses  are  as  gaudy  as  those  of  the  men. 

La  Paz  has  about  62,000  people.  It  is  the  chief  commercial 
city  of  Bolivia,  but  it  has  not  a street-car,  a cab,  or  a dray.  I 
doubt  if  it  has  a dozen  private  carriages.  It  has  no  waggons  of 
any  sort,  and  in  going  about  town  everyone  walks.  All  the 
heavy  traffic  is  carried  by  mules,  donkeys,  llamas,  or  Indians. 
My  trunks  are  taken  from  place  to  place  on  the  backs  of  Indians 
at  about  eight  cents  a trunk.  The  bread-carrier  of  La  Paz  is  a 
donkey,  the  skin  boxes  in  which  the  bread  is  kept  being  slung 
across  his  back.  The  beer-waggon  is  a mule  with  a large  case  of 
bottles  on  each  of  its  sides;  and  the  furniture-movers,  even  if 
the  thing  moved  be  a piano,  are  Indians,  who  carry  the  articles 
on  their  backs,  heads,  or  shoulders. 

All  manner  of  freight  is  brought  into  the  city  on  mules,  llamas, 
donkeys,  and  Indians.  The  fuel,  as  I have  said,  is  llama  manure. 
This  comes  in  bags  on  the  backs  of  llamas.  Coca  is  brought  in 
chiefly  on  donkeys,  and  Peruvian  bark  and  rubber  from  the  hot- 
ter lands  lower  down  come  the  same  way.  I saw  an  odd  load 
on  a mule  yesterday.  It  was  a limp  bundle  about  five  and  a-half 
feet  long,  and,  perhaps,  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  thrown  over 
a mule,  so  that  the  ends  hung  down  at  the  same  distance  from 
the  ground  on  each  side.  Beside  it  on  another  mule  rode  a 
policeman;  and  a crowd  of  Indian  women  came  wailing  behind. 
It  was  the  dead  body  of  a woman  rolled  up  in  a blanket.  She 
had  been  murdered  a few  days  before  for  about  $50  which  she 
was  known  to  have  saved,  and  the  policeman  was  bringing  in  the 
corpse  and  the  criminals. 

Next  to  the  Indians  the  most  interesting  characters  in  La  Paz 
are  the  Cholos,  or  half-breeds,  the  offspring  of  the  Indians  and 
the  whites.  The  men  dress  much  like  the  whites,  but  the  women 
are  clad  in  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  Some  wear  shawls  of 
rose -red  and  skirts  of  sky-blue ; others  have  skirts  of  sea-green ; 
and  not  a few  wear  skirts  as  red  as  the  sun  at  its  setting.  The 
skirts  are  propped  out  with  hoops,  and  they  reach  only  to  the 
curve  of  the  calf.  The  women  wear  shoes  of  white  or  yellow 
kid,  with  Parisian  heels  under  the  instep,  and  with  high  tops, 


148  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

which  in  some  cases  end  in  rose-coloured  stockings,  but  more  often 
in  the  rosy  tint  of  healthy  bare  skin.  They  wear  little  felt  hats 
of  different  colours,  so  that  altogether  they  look  very  queer. 

The  Cholos  do  most  of  the  business  of  La  Paz.  A few  large 
stores  are  managed  by  Germans,  but  the  smaller  establishments 
are  owned  by  Cholo  men  and  women.  The  women  do  as  much 
business  as  the  men,  all  of  the  saloons  belonging  to  them. 

The  average  Cholo  store  is  little  more  than  a hole  in  the 
wall.  Some  of  the  tailor  shops,  dress-making  establishments,  and 
groceries  are  in  rooms  not  more  than  ten  feet  square.  Such 
stores  have  no  windows.  The  light  comes  in  through  the  doors, 
and  as  you  walk  by  you  can  see  the  employer  and  his  hands  at 
their  work.  Nearly  every  merchant  is  also  a manufacturer,  and 
in  some  cases  the  store  is  so  small  that  the  men  sit  outside  and 
work  in  the  street. 

Much  of  the  business  of  La  Paz  is  done  in  the  streets.  The 
Indians  make  most  of  their  purchases  in  the  markets,  which  are 
both  under  cover  and  scattered  along  the  sidewalks.  There  is 
one  market  in  the  centre  of  the  city  where  all  the  week  long 
people  are  buying  and  selling,  but  where,  as  in  all  South  Amer- 
ican markets,  the  chief  day  is  Sunday.  On  that  day  the  streets 
for  blocks  about  the  market-house  proper  are  taken  up  with 
Indian  peddlers,  and  all  the  queer  characters  of  La  Paz  and  the 
surrounding  country  are  buying  and  selling.  The  sight  is  worth 
seeing.  Let  us  take  a look  at  it.  We  walk  from  the  Plaza  in 
the  centre  of  the  city  down  the  hill  to  where  Market  Street 
crosses  our  way  at  right  angles,  picking  our  steps  in  and  out 
through  three  blocks  of  Bolivian  humanity,  until  at  last  we  stand 
in  a living  cross  of  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  made  by  the 
market  people  and  their  customers. 

In  front  and  behind,  to  right  and  left,  the  streets  are  filled 
with  curious  people  moving  to  and  fro  in  waving  lines  of  kalei- 
doscopic colours  such  as  you  will  see  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 
We  talk  of  the  Oriental  hues  of  Cairo  and  Calcutta.  La  Paz  has 
a dozen  different  hues  to  Cairo’s  one,  and  the  costumes  of  Cal- 
cutta would  seem  tame  among  these  about  us.  Reds,  yellows, 
blues,  and  greens  are  ever  mixing,  making  new  combinations 
every  second.  The  most  delicate  tints  of  the  Andean  sunsets 
seem  to  have  been  robbed  to  furnish  the  dresses.  Scores  of 
Indian  women  are  carrying  bundles  on  their  backs  in  striped 


THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  LA  PAZ 


149 


blankets  of  red,  bine,  yellow,  and  green ; and  Indian  men  and 
boys  are  wearing  ponchos  of  the  same  gorgeous  hues.  There  are 
ladies  in  black,  with  black  crape  shawls  wound  tightly  about  their 
olive-skinned  faces,  and  with  prayer-books  and  fur  prayer-mats 
in  their  hands.  They  have  stopped  at  the  market  on  their  way 
home  from  church,  and  some  are  accompanied  by  the  men  of 
their  families  dressed  in  tall  black  hats,  black  clothes,  and  black 
gloves. 

How  quiet  it  is'  There  is  the  hum  of  conversation,  the  chat- 
ter of  gossip,  and  now  and  then  the  jangle  of  bargaining;  but 
the  crowd  moves  in  and  out  without  friction,  and  though  there 
are  thousands  about  us  we  hear  but  few  footfalls.  Take  a look 
downward.  Most  of  the  feet  about  you  are  bare,  and  a large 
number  of  the  Indians  wear  leather  sandals,  which  make  no 
sound  as  their  owners  pass  over  the  streets. 

What  a lot  of  babies  there  are!  We  have  to  pick  our  way 
about  carefully  to  keep  from  treading  upon  them.  Some  lie  on 
the  cold  streets  and  paw  the  cobbles  or  play  with  the  mer- 
chandise their  mothers  are  selling.  Some  are  too  young  to 
crawl,  and  are  tied  up  in  shawls  to  the  backs  of  their  mothers, 
who  go  on  with  their  business  with  apparent  disregard  of  the 
precious  freight.  There  is  one  now  peeping  out  of  that  red 
shawl  below  us.  Its  face  is  as  brown  as  a berry,  and  its  little 
black  eyes  blink  at  us  from  under  its  yellow  knit  cap,  the  ear- 
laps  standing  out  like  horns  on  each  side  of  its  face.  Another, 
a few  months  older,  is  being  dandled  on  the  knees  of  its  Indian 
father;  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  are  two  little  tots 
taking  their  meals  at  their  mothers’  breasts.  Most  of  the  babies 
are  laughing;  one  or  two  are  crying;  some  are  quite  pretty, 
some  are  homely,  but  nearly  all  are  dirty  and  lousy.  There  is 
one  whose  head  is  undergoing  a search  at  the  hands  of  its 
mother,  who  cracks  and  eats  all  that  she  finds.  This  business, 
however,  is  not  confined  to  the  heads  of  babies.  It  is  com- 
mon to  both  the  Indians  and  the  lower-class  Cholos;  and  men, 
women,  and  children  unite  in  the  hunt  and  the  feast,  the  rule 
being  that  the  hunter  is  entitled  to  all  the  game  he  catches,  no 
matter  on  whose  hairy  preserves  he  is  pursuing  the  chase. 

Let  us  stop  a moment  and  notice  some  of  the  queer  things 
sold  all  about  us.  The  wares  are  spread  on  blankets  or  on  the 
cobblestone  streets.  The  vegetables  and  grains  are  divided  into 
S.  A. — 10 


150  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

piles.  There  are  no  weights  or  measures.  All  things  are  sold  by 
the  eye.  You  pay  so  much  for  such  a number  of  things,  or  so 
much  a pile.  The  piles  are  exceedingly  small,  and  things  are 
bought  in  small  quantities.  Marketing  is  done  only  for  the  day. 
I doubt  if  there  is  a cellar  in  La  Paz,  and  the  average  cooking- 
stove  would  hardly  be  big  enough  for  a doll’s  playhouse  in  Amer- 
ica. Think  of  carrying  home  half-a-dozen  potatoes  from  market. 
That  is  the  size  of  many  of  the  potato  piles  offered  for  sale. 
Here  is  a brown-faced  Indian  girl  who  is  selling  some  at  our 
feet.  I venture  you  never  saw  such  small  potatoes  before.  They 
are  not  larger  than  marbles,  and  she  offers  us  eight  for  five 
cents. 

What  queer  potatoes  they  are ! Some  are  of  a bright  violet 
colour,  some  are  as  pink  as  the  toes  of  the  baby  who  is  playing 
among  them,  and  some  are  as  black  as  the  feet  of  the  Indian 
girl  who  is  selling  them.  Potatoes  will  not  grow  large  at  the 
altitude  of  La  Paz,  and  although  there  are  large  ones  in  the 
market,  they  come  from  the  warmer  lands  lower  down. 

But  the  most  curious  potatoes  are  those  known  as  chuno. 
These  are  sold  in  large  quantities.  We  see  piles  of  them  at 
every  step  as  we  go  through  the  market.  Look  at  this  woman 
before  us.  She  has  a large  stock  spread  out  on  a blanket  in 
front  of  her.  The  potatoes  are  as  white  as  bleached  bones. 
They  are  almost  as  hard,  and  when  you  break  them  apart  you 
find  them  quite  as  tough.  They  are  ordinary  potatoes  so  frozen 
and  dried  that  they  can  be  kept  for  a year  without  spoiling. 
The  method  of  preparation  is  to  soak  them  in  water  and  allow 
them  to  freeze  night  after  night  until  they  become  soft.  Then 
the  skins  are  rubbed  off  by  treading  upon  them  with  the  bare 
feet,  and  the  potatoes  are  thoroughly  dried  in  the  open  air.  Af- 
ter drying  they  are  as  white  as  snow  and  as  hard  as  stones. 
Such  potatoes  form  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  food  of  the  Boliv- 
ians. They  are  a staple  article  among  the  Indians  of  the  An- 
dean highlands.  They  have  to  be  soaked  for  three  or  four  days 
before  they  can  be  eaten,  and  are  often  served  in  the  form  of  a 
stew.  I have  tasted  chuno  several  times.  All  the  life  of  the 
potato  seems  to  have  been  taken  out  of  it,  and  it  is  insipid  and 
unappetizing,  qualities  which  are  not  improved  by  the  frequent 
sight  of  the  dirty  bare  feet  of  the  Indians  with  which  the  vege- 
table is  sauced. 


THE  WONDERFUL  CITY  OF  LA  PAZ  15  I 

The  Indian  corn  of  Bolivia  is  also  a novelty.  Many  species 
of  maize  are  grown  here  which  are  unknown  in  North  America. 
One  variety  has  grains  twice  as  large  as  those  of  the  largest 
corn  grown  by  our  farmers.  One  kind  is  of  a bright-yellow 
colour,  every  grain  being  as  big  as  a thumb-nail.  When  bitten 
into  it  crumbles  up  almost  like  flour,  and  with  a slight  bruising 
it  could  be  turned  into  meal.  Another  variety  is  white,  and  a 
third,  called  “maize  morado,®  is  of  a mulberry  colour,  and  has 
a floury  kernel.  It  is  used  in  making  and  colouring  liquors.  The 
most  of  the  corn  sold  here  is  grown  in  the  Yungas  country  to 
the  east,  and  far  lower  down  than  La  Paz. 

The  fruits  are  equally  interesting.  There  are  fruit  peddlers 
on  nearly  every  square  of  the  city  and  the  market  is  filled  with 
quinces,  pears,  oranges,  and  pineapples.  There  are  sweet  and 
sour  lemons,  and  white  grapes  each  berry  of  which  is  the  size 
of  a damson  plum.  There  are  clingstone  peaches  as  big  as  the 
White  Heath,  and  figs  and  other  fruits  which  we  do  not  have. 
A peculiar  one,  known  as  the  “ picae, w looks  like  a mammoth 
green  bean-pod.  When  opened  it  shows  big  black  beans  encased 
in  a pulp  which  has  the  appearance  of  the  finest  of  white  spun- 
silk.  The  pulp  cold  tastes  much  like  a finely  flavoured  ice-cream. 

These  fruits  come  from  forty  or  fifty  miles  lower  down  on 
the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes.  By  going  that  distance  you  get 
into  tropical  Bolivia,  and  during  a few  days’  trip  can  pass  through 
all  the  climates,  from  frigid  cold  to  tropic  heat.  The  snow  never 
melts  on  Illimani;  the  climate  of  the  plateau  is  about  that  of 
Paris;  but  in  the  Yungas  and  the  Beni  regions,  not  far  away, 
there  are  pineapples  and  palm  trees,  wild  orange  and  wild  cotton 
trees,  and  coffee  plantations;  also  rubber  forests  in  which  the 
Indians  gather  sap  to  be  shipped  down  the  Amazon  to  Para  and 
the  United  States. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE  A YMARA  INDIANS 

The  Curious  People,  who  Live  on  the  Plateau  of  Bolivia  — A Nation  of 
Slaves,  who  are  Contented  with  Slavery — A Peep  into  their  Huts 
— Their  Feuds,  and  how  they  Fight  with  Slings  — About  Coca, 
the  Favourite  Indian  Chew  — Chicha,  or  Bolivian  Beer — Goats 
Skinned  alive  to  make  Brandy  Bottles. 

ome  of  the  most  curious  Indians  of  South  America  live  on 
the  high  table-lands  of  the  Andes.  They  are  the  de- 
scendants of  the  tribes  which  were  there  when  the  Span- 
iards made  their  first  invasion.  The  most  prominent  were  the 
Quichuas  and  the  Aymaras.  The  Quichuas  were  found  chiefly  in 
the  highlands  of  Peru  and  Ecuador,  while  the  larger  part  of  the 
Aymaras  lived  farther  south,  on  the  plateau  of  Bolivia.  Both 
these  tribes  were  ruled  by  the  Incas,  and  it  is  their  descendants 
who  form  the  labouring  classes  of  these  regions  to-day.  In  form 
and  feature  both  Aymaras  and  Quichuas  are  much  like  the  In- 
dians of  Mexico.  They  have  short  thick-set  frames,  reddish  com- 
plexions, broad  faces,  and  black  eyes.  Their  faces  are  usually 
sullen-looking,  and  they  seldom  laugh.  They  are  shy  and  sus- 
picious of  strangers.  For  centuries  they  have  been  oppressed  by 
the  whites,  and  to-day  they  look  upon  all  white  men  whom  they 
do  not  personally  know  as  their  enemies. 

For  generations  both  tribes  were  enslaved  by  the  Spaniards. 
They  were  decimated  by  hard  labour,  millions  of  them  being 
worked  to  death  in  the  fields  and  in  the  mines;  and  although 
slavery  has  been  abolished  by  law,  it  still  prevails.  Bolivia  is  a 
feudal  country,  and  in  it  Aymara  men,  women,  and  children  are 
bought  and  sold  with  the  farms  on  which  they  live.  The  fact 
that  they  could  perhaps  leave  on  paying  their  debts  does  not  al- 
ter the  matter,  because  it  is  known  that  they  have  such  an  at- 
tachment for  their  homes  that  they  will  stay;  and  the  proprietor, 
(152) 


AYMARA  HUT  AND  FAMILY 


(153) 


THE  AYMARA  INDIANS 


1 55 


in  selling  his  estate,  often  agrees  to  deliver  his  human  goods  with 
the  property. 

Most  of  the  land  in  Bolivia  is  owned  by  the  Cholos,  or  half- 
breeds  of  Spanish  and  Indian  blood,  and  by  the  whites,  who  are 
the  descendants  of  the  Spaniards.  On  each  farm  there  is  a com- 
munity of  Indians,  who  work  three  days  of  the  week  throughout 
the  year  for  the  owner,  and  the  remaining  days  for  themselves. 
They  receive  no  wages,  and  are  supposed  to  work  instead  of 
paying  rent  for  the  spot  on  which  they  have  built  their  mud 
huts,  and  for  the  little  garden  patches  about  them.  If  their 
master  has  use  for  only  a part  of  their  time,  he  has  the  right  to 
hire  them  out  to  others;  and  if  they  do  not  obey  him  he  can, 
within  certain  limits,  inflict  punishment  upon  them.  They  expect 
to  be  whipped,  and  I have  heard  it  facetiously  said  that  Indian 
servants  grumble  when  they  are  not  often  punished,  because 
they  consider  it  a sign  that  their  master  has  ceased  to  like  them. 
An  Aymara  Indian  has  in  few  things  any  rights  that  anyone  else 
is  bound  to  respect.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  one  struck  to 
make  him  move  faster  or  understand  more  quickly. 

Notwithstanding  this  ill-treatment  the  Indians  stick  to  their 
masters.  They  seem  absolutely  without  ambition  and  content 
with  their  lot.  They  will  work  for  their  masters  for  nothing 
rather  than  for  pay  from  a foreigner,  and  will  fight  to  the  death 
the  Indians  of  a neighbouring  plantation  with  whom  the  master  is 
angry  or  of  whom  they  themselves  are  jealous.  Feuds  often  exist 
between  the  Indians  of  the  farms  of  a neighbourhood,  and  gun- 
fights  and  sling-fights  are  common.  The  sling  is  the  natural 
weapon  of  the  Aymara.  He  has  the  skill  of  a David,  and  often 
kills  his  Goliath.  From  behind  his  hut  he  watches  for  his  enemy, 
and  sometimes  sends  a stone  crashing  into  his  brain.  He  takes 
part  in  his  master’s  troubles,  and  will  engage  in  almost  any  con- 
flict instigated  by  him. 

One  of  the  most  curious  characters  among  the  Aymara  In- 
dians is  the  pongo,  or  scullion.  All  dish-washing,  fire-making, 
and  water-carrying  in  La  Paz  are  done  by  him.  He  fetches  and 
carries  for  the  family,  going  with  the  cook  to  market,  and  bring- 
ing home  the  vegetables  and  meats.  He  does  all  the  dirty  work 
of  the  household,  emptying  the  slops,  and  cleaning  the  pots  and 
pans.  He  sleeps  at  night  on  the  cold  stones  inside  the  street 
door,  and  must  be  ready  to  open  it  at  any  hour  to  anyone  who 


156  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

knocks.  The  other  servants  will  not  do  his  work,  so  that  every 
family  is  dependent  on  him.  He  does  all  this  without  wages,  the 
money  for  his  services  being  collected  by  his  master,  who  may 
receive  as  much  as  thirty-five  gold  dollars  a year  for  him. 

Many  families  change  their  pongo  every  week  or  so,  often 
having  fifty-two  different  pongos  a year.  This  arises  from  a cus- 
tom which  demands  that  the  Indians  of  each  estate,  in  addition 
to  three  days’  labour  a week,  must  furnish  a certain  number  of 
men  to  attend  to  the  dirty  work  about  the  house  of  the  master. 
The  number  is  larger  or  smaller  according  to  the  number  of  In- 
dians on  the  plantation,  so  that  on  a large  estate  many  more  are 
furnished  than  are  needed,  and  some  are  hired  out.  The  rule  is 
that  one  man  can  be  made  to  do  such  work  for  only  a week  at 
a time,  so,  when  a householder  in  La  Paz  makes  a contract  of 
this  kind  for  a year’s  service,  he  expects  to  be  furnished  with 
a different  pongo  every  week. 

The  Indian  women  are  the  better  working  half  of  the  family. 
The  men  work  too,  but  the  roughest  and  the  hardest  of  the  work 
is  done  by  the  women.  I have  seen  them  digging  potatoes, 
bending  over  the  hills  and  scratching  the  tubers  out  with  trowel- 
like hoes.  I found  them  everywhere  minding  the  flocks,  and  spin- 
ning as  they  ran  this  way  and  that  to  keep  the  sheep  and  llamas 
from  straying.  When  an  Indian  and  his  wife  go  together,  the 
woman  carries  the  bundle,  and  in  the  markets  the  Indian  woman 
and  not  the  man  sells  the  goods  and  does  the  trading. 

The  Aymara  women  are  not  at  all  handsome.  Each  Indian 
is  supposed  to  have  but  one  wife  and  the  women  are  exceed- 
ingly  jealous  of  their  husbands.  They  will  not  tolerate  the 
advances  of  other  men,  and  are,  according  to  their  light  and  cus- 
toms, very  dutiful  wives.  Marriage  ceremonies  are  performed  by 
the  priests.  The  Indians  are  devout  Catholics  and  the  priests 
rule  them.  Every  Indian  hut  has  a wooden  cross  on  its  roof, 
and  in  many  huts  one  finds  images  of  the  Virgin  with  tapers 
burning  before  them. 

Aymara  children  are  often  sold  into  slavery  by  their  parents. 
They  are  bound  out,  as  it  were,  to  the  whites  for  a money  con- 
sideration, with  the  understanding  that  they  are  to  receive  a cer- 
tain amount  of  education.  The  law  provides  that  their  parents 
may  reclaim  them  by  paying  twenty  cents  a day  for  the  time 
they  have  been  in  service;  but  as  the  Indians  are  never  able  to 


THE  AYMARA  INDIANS 


157 


get  money  ahead  the  sales  are  absolute,  continuing  in  force  until 
the  child  is  grown  up.  Most  of  the  house  servants  of  La  Paz, 
especially  the  females,  have  been  bought  as  children  and  raised 
by  their  masters.  Each  well-to-do  family  requires  a number 
of  servants,  one  usually  being  allotted  to  the  care  of  each  child. 
When  wages  are  paid  they  range  from  ten  cents  to  a dollar  per 
week. 

The  best  place  to  study  the  Indians  is  out  on  the  plateau. 
You  see  their  huts  scattered  everywhere  over  it  and  about  them 
men,  women,  and  children  hoeing  in  the  fields,  picking  stones  and 
tending  the  flocks.  I wish  I could  take  you  into  one  of  the 
huts  and  show  you  how  the  Aymaras  live.  It  is  not  an  easy 
matter;  for  the  Aymara  hates  strangers  and  will  not  admit  one 
if  he  can  help  it.  I have  passed  thousands  of  huts,  but  have  yet 
to  receive  an  invitation  to  enter.  Once  or  twice  when  I asked 
an  Indian  to  let  me  look  into  his  home  he  showed  fight,  and 
once  when  I thrust  my  head  into  the  door  of  a hut  the  owner 
threatened  to  have  me  arrested. 

And  still  when  you  have  explored  one  of  these  homes  you 
have  seen  very  little.  The  average  hut  would  not  be  a respect- 
able cow-stable  in  America.  Imagine  a box-like  structure  of 
mud,  six,  eight,  or  twelve  feet  square,  with  a ridge  roof  of  straw 
thatch.  Let  the  wall  be  so  low  that  you  can  reach  the  roof 
without  effort.  Let  the  hut  have  no  windows  and  its  only  en- 
trance be  an  opening  two  feet  from  the  ground,  so  low  that  you 
have  to  stoop  to  go  through.  Let  it  be  so  small  that  you  can 
hardly  turn  around  in  it  on  account  of  the  farming  utensils, 
donkeys,  chickens,  and  llamas  which  stay  in  the  hut  with  the 
people. 

The  inhabitants  of  these  homes  sit  upon  the  floor.  They 
sleep  sitting,  backing  themselves  up  against  the  wall  and  keep- 
ing as  close  together  as  possible  for  warmth.  In  one  corner  of 
the  hut  is  a cook-stove,  a little  hearth  or  bowl  of  clay  with  a 
pile  of  llama  fuel  beside  it.  There  is  no  chimney  and  the  dense 
smoke  blackens  everything,  finding  its  way  out  as  it  can. 

Aymara  cooking  is  very  simple.  A favourite  dish  is  challona 
stew  with  chuno.  Challona  is  jerked  mutton,  cured  after  the 
following  manner:  The  sheep  having  been  killed  is  split  open 
and  left  outside  to  freeze.  The  next  day  water  is  sprinkled  upon 
it  and  it  is  frozen  again.  It  is  then  hung  up  to  dry  and  after  a 


158  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

time  becomes  so  tough  that  it  will  keep  for  months.  When  used 
it  is  cut  into  bits  and  stewed  for  some  hours.  The  Indians  con- 
sider it  delicious. 

There  is  one  thing  that  is  more  important  to  the  Bolivian 
Indian  than  his  meals.  This  is  his  daily,  hourly,  and  I might 
almost  say  his  perpetual,  chew.  He  begins  chewing  as  soon  as 
he  gets  his  first  teeth  and  he  rolls  a cud  of  leaves  between  his 
toothless  gums  when  he  is  on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  Both 
women  and  men  have  their  jaws  continually  going,  and  it  is  rare, 
indeed,  to  find  an  Indian  without  a lump  inside  his  cheek. 

And  what  is  it  he  chews  ? Tobacco  ? No,  he  smokes  that 
sometimes,  but  the  chew  he  uses  is  the  coca  leaf.  Coca  is  the 
shrub  from  which  cocaine  is  made.  It  is  a food  and  a stimulant 
and  the  Indians  say  it  keeps  out  cold  and  allays  hunger.  Many 
of  the  Aymaras  will  work  for  hours  on  nothing  else,  and  in  go- 
ing over  the  high  mountain  passes  they  chew  coca  to  sustain 
their  strength.  They  begin  chewing  at  breakfast  and  chew  all 
the  day  through.  They  will  not  work  unless  they  have  an  allow- 
ance of  coca  leaves  in  addition  to  their  wages,  the  Indians  in  the 
mines  insisting  upon  five  ounces  per  man  per  day.  They  chew 
the  leaves  much  as  the  Siamese  chew  the  betel  nut,  mixing  them 
first  with  the  ashes  of  lime.  Strange  to  say,  they  swallow  the 
juice. 

Coca-raising  forms  one  of  the  chief  industries  of  Bolivia. 
There  are  plantations  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes  from 
where  the  leaves  are  brought  to  La  Paz.  The  plants  grow  from 
two  to  five  feet  in  height.  Each  plant  gives  three  crops  a year. 
The  leaves  which  are  not  unlike  wintergreen  leaves  are  gathered 
by  Indian  women,  packed  up  in  bundles  of  twenty-five  pounds 
and  brought  to  the  markets  on  the  backs  of  llamas  and  mules. 

The  favourite  drink  of  the  Bolivian  Indian  is  raw  alcohol. 
Drunkenness  is  to  him  the  acme  of  pleasure  and  the  most  of  his 
earnings  goes  toward  keeping  himself  and  his  family  in  a chronic 
state  of  inebriety.  On  feast  days  men,  women,  and  children  get 
drunk  and  keep  so  until  their  money  runs  out.  Much  of  the 
alcohol  is  imported,  but  a large  amount  is  consumed  in  the  shape 
of  aguardiente  or  sugar  brandy,  which  is  carried  over  the  coun- 
try in  goat-skin  bottles.  The  skins  for  this  purpose  are  torn 
from  the  bodies  of  the  goats  while  still  living,  as  such  skins  are 
more  pliable  and  less  liable  to  shrink.  The  goat  is  hung  up  by 


THE  AYMARA  INDIANS 


159 


its  horns,  then  a cut  is  made  about  the  neck  and  the  men,  seiz- 
ing hold  of  the  skin,  pull  it  from  the  body  of  the  tortured  and 
dying  animal. 

The  native  beer  of  Bolivia  is  chicha.  It  is  made  of  Indian 
corn  and  looks  very  much  like  thin  buttermilk  of  a yellowish 
tinge.  It  is  sold  everywhere  throughout  the  country  and  you 
find  hundreds  of  chicha  shops  in  all  the  cities.  Those  of  La  Paz 
are  owned  by  Cholo  women,  who  ladle  the  beer  out  of  immense 
earthern  jars  into  glasses  much  like  the  <(  beer  schooners M of  the 
North,  selling  it  for  a few  cents  a drink.  I have  tried  chicha 
several  times.  It  tastes  like  old  buttermilk  and  is  not  so  intoxi- 
cating as  our  lager  beer.  It  has  for  ages  been  the  national  drink 
of  the  Indians,  and  was  in  use  when  the  Spaniards  came.  The 
process  of  manufacture  is  not  especially  appetizing.  The  corn  is 
first  bruised  with  a heavy  stone,  and  then  handed  over  to  a group 
of  women  who  chew  the  crushed  grains  mixing  them  with  their 
saliva  until  they  have  turned  them  into  a paste  which  they  spit 
out  into  a dish  or  cup.  When  a sufficient  amount  of  the  paste 
has  been  collected  it  is  spread  out  upon  a board  to  dry.  It  is 
next  put  into  an  earthern  vessel  as  large  around  as  a wash-tub 
and  as  high  as  one’s  waist.  This  is  filled  with  water  and  a slow 
fire  kept  under  it  for  three  or  four  days.  The  fire  is  then  re- 
moved and  the  liquor  is  cooled  and  left  to  ferment.  After  a 
week’s  fermentation  it  is  ready  to  drink. 

Good  chicha  will  easily  intoxicate  a foreigner,  but  some  of  the 
Aymaras  can  drink  a gallon  at  a time  without  being  affected  by 
it.  At  harvest  time  some  of  the  Indians  celebrate  the  occasion 
with  a feast.  The  people  of  each  village  prepare  quantities  of 
chicha  and  go  from  one  village  to  another  for  a grand  chicha 
drunk.  They  continue  drinking  until  all  the  chicha  is  consumed. 
The  women  sit  around  the  fire  with  the  men  behind  them.  They 
pass  the  chicha  first  to  the  men  and  then  they  drink.  As  drunk- 
enness comes  on,  their  orgies  grow  more  and  more  wild  and 
towards  the  last  they  act  more  like  beasts  than  like  women  and 
men. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


IN  THE  BACKWOODS  OF  BOLIVIA 

An  Unexplored  Country  of  vast  Resources  given  up  to  Savage  Tripes  — 
The  Cannibals  of  the  Eastern  Andes  who  Shoot  with  Blow-Guns 
and  Poisoned  Arrows  — Some  Indians  who  go  Naked  and  Others 
who  Dress  in  Bark  Clothing  — The  Rubber  Forests  of  the  Andean 
Slope — Quinine  and  Peruvian  Bark. 


Bolivia  is  one  of  the  least-known  countries  of  the  world. 
The  geographers  are  now  disputing  about  its  area,  and 
the  different  estimates  vary  by  more  than  100,000  square 
miles.  Senor  Manuel  V.  Ballivian,  president  of  the  La  Paz  Geo- 
graphical Society,  and  one  of  the  best-informed  men  upon  such 
matters,  tells  me  that  Bolivia  contains  more  than  567,000  square 
miles.  This  is  about  one-sixth  the  size  of  the  United  States, 
without  Alaska.  It  is  larger  than  ten  states  of  the  size  of  New 
York,  larger  than  any  country  of  Europe,  with  the  exception  of 
Russia,  and  larger  than  Germany,  France,  Great  Britain,  Greece, 
Switzerland,  and  Belgium  combined. 

This  vast  territory  has  not  as  many  people  as  has  the  State 
of  Massachusetts.  Its  population  is  estimated  at  about  two  mil- 
lions, and  of  these  not  more  than  half  a million  are  of  white 
blood.  Think  of  giving  a territory  one-sixth  the  size  of  ours  and 
proportionately  as  rich  in  its  natural  resources  to  half  the  people 
of  Philadelphia,  and  you  have  about  the  conditions  which  prevail 
here.  The  whites  own  Bolivia,  and  the  other  three-fourths  of 
the  people,  who  are  Indians,  are  their  servants.  Of  course  there 
are  a few  exceptions,  but  as  a rule  this  classification  holds  good. 
It  is  especially  so  as  regards  the  domesticated  Indians,  who  num- 
ber much  more  than  half  the  population,  and  who  are  in  many 
cases  practically  the  slaves  of  the  whites.  In  La  Paz  there  are 
at  least  five  Indians  to  every  white  man. 

The  richest  parts  of  Bolivia  have  not  been  surveyed  and  sev- 
eral of  its  provinces  are  practically  unexplored.  Some  sections 
(160) 


IN  THE  BACKWOODS  OF  BOLIVIA 


161 


of  it  are  as  unknown  as  central  Africa,  and  their  inhabitants  have 
as  curious  customs  as  have  the  savages  of  the  Sahara.  Take  for 
instance  that  strip  of  Bolivia,  several  hundred  miles  wide  and 
about  five  hundred  miles  long,  which  lies  between  the  plateau 
and  the  boundary  of  Brazil.  It  has  resources  of  great  wealth. 
I have  met  men  here  who  have  crossed  it  in  travelling  overland 
to  Paraguay  and  the  Argentines.  They  tell  me  of  vast  plains 
covered  with  tame  and  wild  cattle  in  herds  so  enormous  that  they 
can  be  bought  for  from  two  to  three  dollars  a head,  for  there  is 
no  means  of  getting  them  to  market.  A syndicate  was  recently 
formed  in  London  to  connect  these  rich  grazing  lands  with 
the  head  of  navigation  of  some  of  the  Amazon  branches  by  a 
railway  which  will  run  along  the  boundary  between  Brazil  and 
Bolivia,  but  on  Brazilian  soil.  The  road  is  planned  on  the  line 
of  a concession  granted  some  years  ago  to  Colonel  Church,  and 
its  purpose  is  to  carry  the  cattle  to  the  rubber  camps  of  the 
Amazon.  There  are  other  important  projects  on  foot  to  build 
railroads  for  Bolivia.  One  is  to  construct  a line  sixty-six  miles 
long,  from  La  Paz  to  the  Desuaguadero  River.  Another  scheme 
is  to  extend  the  Central  North  Argentine  Railroad  to  Sucre. 
This  road  would  pass  through  a rich  cattle-grazing,  agricultural 
and  mining  territory;  it  would  furnish  an  outlet  to  the  Atlantic 
for  Bolivian  products  and  open  a large  part  of  eastern  Bolivia  to 
settlement. 

At  present  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  travel  anywhere  in  Bo- 
livia. In  coming  to  La  Paz  from  the  coast,  a distance  of  nearly 
five  hundred  miles.  I spent  two  days  on  the  railroad  in  Peru  be- 
fore I reached  the  shores  of  Lake  Titicaca.  It  took  another  day 
to  cross  that  lake.  I had  to  wait  at  Chililaya  a day,  and  the  fifth 
day  was  taken  up  in  the  stage  ride  which  landed  me  in  La  Paz. 
In  going  back,  I shall  have  three  days  of  difficult  staging  from 
here  to  Oruro,  and  then  three  days  upon  the  smallest  of  the  long 
narrow-gauge  railroads  in  the  world  in  going  down  the  Andes  to 
the  sea.  With  the  same  money  and  time  I could  comfortably 
cross  the  United  States  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  a dis- 
tance almost  five  times  as  great. 

My  travels  are  to  be  through  the  most  inaccessible  parts  of 
Bolivia.  Most  of  the  country  is  to  be  reached  only  upon  mules 
or  on  foot.  The  American  Minister,  I find,  is  about  to  pay  a 
visit  to  the  capital  at  Sucre,  four  hundred  miles  from  La  Paz. 


i62  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

He  will  have  to  take  mules  or  stage  for  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  to  the  railroad,  and  after  a short  ride  on  the  cars  will 
take  mules  again  for  a five  clays’  journey  through  the  mountains 
to  Sucre.  The  only  route  from  Sucre  to  the  famous  mining 
town  of  Potosi  is  a bridle  path,  and  from  Oruro  to  Cochabamba, 
a town  of  twenty-five  thousand,  is  a three  and  a-half  days’  ride 
on  horseback.  Nearly  all  of  the  large  towns  are  to  be  reached 
only  on  mule-back  or  horseback;  they  are  situated  on  the  high- 
lands and  in  the  mountains. 

Eastern  Bolivia  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  parts  of  South 
America.  I have  recently  met  several  men  who  have  gone  from 
La  Paz  down  the  rivers  which  flow  into  the  Amazon,  thence  to 
the  Atlantic.  They  tell  wonderful  stories  of  the  rubber  forests, 
of  trees  of  wild  cotton,  of  plants  with  fibre-like  silk,  and  of  vege- 
tation so  dense  as  to  be  almost  impenetrable.  They  met  savages 
who  are  cannibals  and  other  Indians  who  go  about  stark  naked 
and  regard  the  laws  of  neither  God  nor  man.  At  Lima  I met  a 
young  German  explorer  named  Kroehle,  who  had  spent  three 
years  travelling  through  the  eastern  provinces  of  Peru  and 
among  the  Indians  of  the  far-away  branches  of  the  Amazon. 
He  had  a camera  with  him  and  made  some  excellent  negatives 
from  which  I secured  prints.  Mr.  Kroehle  was  many  times  in 
danger  of  his  life.  He  was  twice  wounded  with  poisoned  arrows 
and  he  describes  the  travels  through  these  regions  as  dangerous 
in  the  extreme.  He  was  for  a time  among  the  head  hunters  of 
the  River  Napo,  in  Ecuador  and  Peru,  the  first  pictures  ever 
taken  of  these  people  being  made  by  him. 

The  Indians  of  one  tribe  whom  Mr.  Kroehle  saw  near  the 
Napo  river  wear  plates  of  wood  or  metal  in  the  lobes  of  their 
ears,  each  plate  being  as  big  around  as  the  bottom  of  the  aver- 
age tumbler.  Their  ears  are  pierced  when  they  are  children, 
and  at  first  bits  of  grass  and  twigs  are  thrust  through  the  holes 
to  keep  them  open.  From  time  to  time  additional  twigs  are  in- 
serted until  the  aperture  is  as  large  as  the  inside  of  a bracelet. 
The  same  custom  prevails  among  the  Burmese  and  the  natives 
of  Southern  India.  It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  in  Burma  for 
a woman  to  carry  a cigar  as  thick  as  a broomstick,  made  of  to- 
bacco wrapped  in  corn  husks,  in  the  slits  of  her  ears.  The  Napo 
River  Indians  have  even  larger  ear-holes  than  the  Burmese. 
This,  however  is  their  only  extravagance  of  fashion,  for  both 


PACHITEA  (PERU)  INDIAN 


IN  THE  BACKWOODS  OF  BOLIVIA  165 

men  and  women  go  naked.  On  the  Pachitea  river  there  are 
Indians  who  wear  waist  cloths  only;  the  Mojos  of  the  Beni  have 
long  smocks  made  of  bark,  and  the  Guayaros,  farther  south  in 
the  same  region,  are  in  full  dress  when  their  skins  are  coated 
with  red  and  black  paint,  their  legs  bound  about  with  garters, 
and  sticks  thrust  through  the  cartilage  of  their  noses. 

Some  of  the  tribes  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes,  such 
as  the  Chacaros,  are  cannibals;  they  eat  the  flesh  of  their  ene- 
mies and  are  especially  fond,  it  is  said,  of  baby  roasts  and  maiden 
stews.  They  as  well  as  other  Indian  tribes  of  the  region  use 
blow-guns  and  poisoned  arrows;  the  arrows  are  made  of  iron 
wood,  tipped  with  flints  poisoned  at  the  points.  The  guns  are 
reeds,  ten  or  eleven  feet  long.  The  poison  is  so  deadly  that  the 
slightest  scratch  of  an  arrow  is  fatal,  although  the  meat  of  the 
animal  killed  is  not  injured.  The  composition  of  the  poison  is 
kept  secret.  It  is  made,  I am  told,  by  thrusting  the  arrows  into 
putrid  human  flesh  which  has  already  been  poisoned  in  some 
other  way. 

In  trading  with  the  wild  Indians  it  is  necessary  to  carry  a 
stock  of  goods  with  you.  They  do  not  understand  the  use  of 
money,  for  all  their  dealings  are  by  barter.  They  are,  however, 
fond  of  trading  and  will  exchange  gold  for  hatchets,  knives,  and 
guns.  They  wash  the  gold  out  of  the  streams  and  bring  it  to 
the  traders  in  nuggets  and  in  coarse  dust.  These  savages  live 
chiefly  by  hunting  and  fishing.  There  are  many  wild  fruits  in 
the  forests  and  everything  grows  so  easily  that  it  is  necessary 
only  to  plant  the  seeds  to  get  a crop.  The  Indians  burn  over 
the  ground  and  plant  little  patches  of  corn  without  ploughing. 
They  plant  also  onions,  beans,  and  turnips  and  in  some  parts  of 
the  valley  of  Maranon  they  have  small  plantations  of  sugar-cane. 
The  cane  is  ripe  at  nine  months,  and  the  same  plants  will  pro- 
duce for  twelve  years  in  succession. 

A large  number  of  Indians  are  engaged  in  the  rubber  camps 
where  they  work  for  the  whites,  only  a few  gathering  rubber  for 
themselves.  Bolivia  is  increasing  very  rapidlv  in  its  rubber  pro- 
duct. It  is  now  exporting  about  four  million  pounds  of  rubber  a 
year,  the  rubber  camps  being  scattered  along  the  banks  of  the 
rivers  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Andes.  The  rubber  comes 
entirely  from  wild  trees,  there  being  but  one  cultivated  planta- 
tion in  Bolivia.  The  trees  grow  best  far  down  in  the  valleys, 
S.  A.— 11 


166  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

near  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  They  are  of  all  sizes,  from  the 
size  of  your  leg,  to  some  so  large  that  three  men  joining  their 
hands  could  not  reach  around  one  of  them.  In  some  places  there 
are  as  many  as  six  thousand  trees  to  the  square  mile,  and  there 
is  one  grove  which  contains  ten  thousand  trees  on  this  area. 

Getting  out  the  rubber  necessitates  large  capital.  It  cannot 
be  done  successfully  with  an  investment  of  less  than  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  the  more  the  money  the  greater  the  profit.  The 
trees  are  all  private  property,  but  many  of  the  forests  are  in  the 
hands  of  Cholos,  who  have  bought  government  lands  at  low 
prices.  They  usually  have  not  the  money  to  work  them,  and  are 
therefore  ready  to  sell  at  reasonable  prices.  The  gathering  of 
the  rubber  is  all  done  by  Indians,  who  gash  the  trees  with  small 
hatchets  and  chisels.  A white  sap  then  flows  out  of  the  gashes, 
and  this  is  caught  in  clay  pots  and  is  smoked  for  the  market.  As 
the  smoke  touches  the  sap  it  hardens:  it  is  then  so  treated  that 
it  can  be  made  into  balls.  These  are  tied  up  in  nets  and  carried 
to  La  Paz  or  Lake  Titicaca  on  the  backs  of  donkeys  or  mules,  or 
are  loaded  upon  boats  to  be  shipped  down  the  Beni  and  the 
Madeira  to  the  Amazon. 

Bolivia  is  the  land  of  quinine.  We  know  the  bark  of  the 
cinchona  tree  from  which  quinine  is  made  as  Peruvian  bark,  but 
it  would  be  more  in  accord  with  the  facts  to  call  it  Bolivian 
bark.  The  best  quinine  is  from  the  bark  of  trees  grown  in  the 
Department  of  La  Paz;  and  Bolivia  far  exceeds  Peru  in  the  num- 
ber of  her  cinchona  trees. 

There  are  millions  of  trees  growing  on  plantations  in  eastern 
Bolivia.  These  plantations  were  established  when  quinine  was 
high  in  price  and  before  some  of  the  Bolivian  trees  had  been 
taken  to  India  and  Ceylon,  to  start  plantations  there.  As  a 
result  of  the  Indian  plantations  the  market  became  overstocked, 
and  the  price  of  quinine  fell.  The  bark  which  in  1882  brought 
in  Bolivian  money,  at  La  Paz,  $220  a hundred  weight,  now  sells 
for  from  $16  to  $18  a hundred  weight,  or,  taking  into  considera- 
tion the  fall  in  the  price  of  silver,  about  one-thirtieth  of  what  it 
brought  sixteen  years  ago.  The  fall  of  prices  has  ruined  a great 
many  Bolivian  capitalists.  More  than  $3,000,000  were  invested  in 
such  estates  by  the  people  of  La  Paz,  and  the  foreign  houses  who 
had  advanced  money  on  them  were  severely  hurt.  The  bark  at 
one  time  was  rated  so  low  that  it  did  not  pay  to  cut  it  and 


IN  THE  BACKWOODS  OF  BOLIVIA 


167 


carry  it  to  market;  to-day,  however,  while  there  is  somewhat  of 
a revival  in  prices,  the  margin  of  profit  in  the  business  is  small. 
Quantities  of  cinchona  bark  may  be  seen  here  every  day.  The 
bark  is  brought  in  to  the  exporters  on  the  backs  of  donkeys,  each 
of  which  carries  two  bundles  of  about  one  hundred  pounds  apiece. 

Most  of  the  South  American  quinine  product  now  comes  from 
wild  trees  which  grow  at  the  head-waters  of  the  Beni  and  the 
Madeira  rivers.  It  is  carried  for  miles  through  the  forests  on 
men’s  backs,  and  then  loaded  on  the  donkeys  which  bring  it  to 
La  Paz. 

So  far  as  I could  learn  there  is  no  money  to  be  made  by 
foreigners  in  the  quinine  business,  although  any  number  of  good 
plantations  can  be  bought.  A rich  planter  of  interior  Bolivia 
told  me  that  he  could  buy  me  eight  hundred  thousand  trees,  if  I 
wished  them,  for  less  than  eight  cents  of  our  money  per  tree. 
Quinine  trees  are  planted  nine  feet  apart,  and  after  five  years  an 
orchard  is  ready  for  the  market.  The  trees  are  then  chopped 
down  and  stripped  of  their  bark.  Sprouts  spring  up  the  follow- 
ing season  from  the  stumps,  and  at  the  end  of  another  period  of 
five  years  there  is  a further  crop.  The  cinchona  tree  grows  wild, 
and  it  is  to  be  found  wherever  the  rubber  tree  thrives;  it  usually 
grows  to  a great  height,  its  foliage  forming  a magnificent  crown 
to  the  tree,  which  is  of  such  a colour  that  the  quinine  hunter  can 
pick  it  out  at  a long  distance  in  looking  over  the  trees  of  a forest. 


LA  PAZ  INDIANS 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


A WILD  RIDE  WITH  THE  BOLIVIAN  MAILS 

A Gallop  over  the  vast  dried-up  Sea  of  the  Middle  Andes — Queer 
Scenes  on  the  Highlands  — The  Bolivian  Coachman  and  his  Cruelty 
- — Nights  in  Bolivian  Inns  — Odd  Features  of  Farming  where  the 
Oxen  pull  the  Ploughs  with  their  Heads  — American  Trade  in 
Bolivia. 

i the  past  three  days  I have  been  riding  over  the  high 
plateau  of  Bolivia  and  atn  now  in  the  middle  of  it, 
away  up  over  the  Coast  Range  of  the  Andes,  in  the 
mining  town  of  Oruro.  The  Bolivian  plateau  is  one  of  the  won- 
derful tablelands  of  the  globe;  it  is  situated  between  the  two 
ranges  of  the  Andes,  at  from  11,000  to  13,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  plateau,  which  runs  from  north-west  to  south-east,  is  five 
hundred  miles  long,  about  eighty  miles  wide,  and  has  an  area  as 
great  as  the  State  of  Ohio. 

The  plateau  has  a soil,  a vegetation,  and  a climate  of  its  own. 
Its  skies  seem  different  from  any  which  hang  over  the  United 
States.  Its  people  are  like  none  we  have  on  our  bontinent,  and 
my  surroundings  altogether  are  such  that  I seem  to  be  in  another 
world.  It  is  the  world  of  the  heights,  the  highest  land  of  the 
earth  upon  which  numerous  cities  and  villages  exist,  a very  land 
of  the  sky. 

The  geological  history  of  the  Bolivian  plateau  is  largely  con- 
jecture. There  are  evidences  that  there  once  lay  between  these 
two  Andean  ranges  a vast  inland  sea,  hundreds  of  miles  long, 
and  in  places  over  sixty  miles  wide,  of  which  the  Bolivian  pla- 
teau is  a part.  Its  waters  reached  to  Lake  Titicaca,  and  thence 
flowed  on  through  the  plateau  of  Peru.  From  here  they  extended 
southward  to  the  highlands  of  the  Argentine  Republic.  Where  I 
crossed  the  plateau  from  Lake  Titicaca  to  La  Paz  the  ground  was 
as  flat  as  a boarded  floor.  It  is  almost  level  also  from  La  Paz  to 
(168) 


(169) 


A TYPICAL  FOREST  VIEW 


A WILD  RIDE  WITH  THE  BOLIVIAN  MAILS  X 7 I 

Oruro,  and  everywhere  there  are  signs  that  the  whole  country 
was  once  covered  with  water.  I rode  for  miles  over  beds  of  peb- 
bles and  boulders  and  passed  over  wide  stretches  of  what  seemed 
like  sea-sand.  Sea-shells  are  often  found  here,  and  there  are 
other  evidences  that  the  land,  as  I have  said,  was  once  covered 
with  water. 

Professor  Agassiz  believed  that  the  water  once  rose  some  four 
hundred  feet  above  the  present  level  of  the  Bolivian  plateau. 
To-day  the  only  large  bodies  of  water  upon  it  are  Lake  Titicaca 
and  Lake  Pampa-Aullagas,  or  Lake  Poopo,  the  two  being  con- 
nected by  the  Desaguadero  river.  Lake  Poopo  is  very  near 
Oruro.  It  is  about  as  large  as  Rhode  Island,  and  is  a brackish 
lake  deep  enough  for  steamers.  It  is  now  proposed  to  put  steam- 
ers on  it,  and  should  this  be  done,  we  may  look  for  a line  of 
ships  sailing  from  Oruro  across  Lake  Poopo  and  through  the  Des- 
aguadero river  to  Lake  Titicaca. 

My  journey  from  La  Paz  to  Oruro  was  over  this  dried-up  sea- 
basin.  The  distance  is  165  miles,  most  of  the  road  being  as 
smooth  and  as  hard  as  any  in  Central  Park,  New  York.  There 
is  a stage  line  which  carries  mails  and  passengers  twice  a week 
from  La  Paz  to  Oruro.  The  stage-coach  has  six  seats  inside  and 
one  outside  with  the  driver.  In  planning  my  tour  I coveted 
the  driver’s  seat,  but  on  going  to  the  stage  office  I found  that 
not  only  it  but  the  whole  coach  had  been  reserved.  There  was 
no  better  chance  for  the  next  stage,  three  days  later,  and  for  a 
time  it  seemed  that  I should  have  to  go  on  the  back  of  a mule. 
At  this  moment  my  guide  and  adviser  in  ways  Bolivian,  Mr.  Sam 
Klotz,  of  La  Paz,  suggested  that  I get  a seat  on  the  mail  coach, 
where  there  is  always  room  for  one  passenger.  I jumped  at  the 
chance,  and  readily  paid  twenty  dollars,  the  price  of  the  ticket. 
This  was  several  days  before  leaving.  The  day  previous  to 
starting  I sent  my  baggage  to  the  station,  my  three  trunks  go- 
ing on  the  backs  of  three  Indians  from  the  hotel  to  the  stage 
office.  When  they  arrived  a second  dilemma  arose:  only  200 
pounds  of  baggage,  I found,  were  allowed  to  each  passenger.  My 
trunks  weighed  370  pounds,  and  it  was  only  by  paying  $21  for 
extra  baggage  that  they  were  allowed  to  go  with  me. 

I confess  to  a feeling  of  pride  when  I told  my  friends  at  La 
Paz  that  I was  going  to  travel  on  the  mail  coach.  They  smiled 
rather  pityingly  as  I did  so,  and  at  the  time  I attributed  their 


172  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

pity  to  envy;  but  I know  better  now.  I know  that  the  Bo- 
livian mail  coach  is  not  a gorgeous  red  vehicle,  with  postman 
in  livery  and  magnificent  steeds.  I had  my  first  sight  of  it  at 
daybreak  on  the  morning  of  my  starting.  It  is  merely  the  bag- 
gage waggon  of  the  stage,  a skeleton  waggon  on  springs.  The 
floor  of  the  vehicle  is  so  high  that  you  can  almost  walk  under  it 
without  stooping,  and  when  it  was  loaded  with  trunks  and  mail- 
bags  it  looked  more  like  a hay  waggon  coming  to  the  barn  in 
harvest  time  than  the  Royal  Bolivian  Mail.  The  baggage  urns 
tied  on  with  rawhide  ropes  and  was  covered  with  canvas  to 
keep  out  the  rain.  There  was  only  one  seat  and  this  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  driver,  his  assistant,  and  myself.  The  seat  was  at 
least  eight  feet  above  the  ground:  it  had  no  cushion  until  I im- 
provised one  out  of  my  own  coat  and  blankets.  As  there  was  no 
canopy  over  the  seat,  I suffered  when  it  rained  and  snowed,  as  it 
did  at  intervals  on  the  journey. 

Our  drivers  were  Bolivian  Cholos,  whom  I found  so  cruel  to 
the  mules  that  I again  and  again  protested.  Even  when  first 
hitched  up  the  beasts  were  raw  and  sore ; their  harness  was 
twisted  out  of  all  shape,  and  their  collars  did  not  fit,  the  ragged 
rough  leather  pressing  in  upon  the  raw  flesh.  Every  mule  had 
sores  on  its  back,  and  the  legs  of  some  had  been  almost  cut  to 
pieces  by  the  whip.  T remember  one  little  yellow  mule  who 
had  lost  two  patches  of  skin,  each  as  large  as  the  palm  of  one’s 
hand,  from  the  front  of  his  shoulders.  When  he  was  harnessed 
I objected  to  taking  him,  as  there  were  better  mules  in  the  cor- 
ral. My  protestations  were  however  of  no  avail;  he  was  hitched 
up  next  to  the  waggon,  right  under  the  driver,  and  we  started 
off  on  a gallop.  The  little  mule  soon  began  to  lag.  The  driver 

cut  at  him  with  a whip,  which  brought  blood  at  almost  every 

spot  it  touched,  and  the  helper,  who  ran  along  with  the  coach 

and  whipped  up  the  lazy  mules,  picked  out  the  little  yellow  fel- 

low for  his  special  attention.  We  had  not  gone  five  miles  before 
the  backs  of  the  mule’s  legs  were  bleeding  in  half  a dozen  differ- 
ent places,  and  I could  see  that  his  collar  was  smeared  with 
blood  from  sores  on  his  neck.  From  time  to  time  I noticed  that 
the  driver,  when  he  found  that  his  whipping  and  whistling  failed 
to  stir  up  the  nudes,  took  a heavy  trace,  with  an  iron  chain 
and  ring  at  the  end  of  it,  and  rattled  it.  This  never  failed  to 
frighten  the  team  into  increased  speed.  As  the  little  yellow 


A WILD  RIDE  WITH  THE  BOLIVIAN  MAILS 


l73 


fellow  again  fell  behind,  I found  the  secret  of  the  inspiring  sound 
of  the  trace  and  chain.  The  driver  swung  the  trace  about  his 
head  and  brought  it  down  with  a terrible  thud  upon  the  little 
mule’s  back.  It  was  a wonder  it  did  not  break  the  bones, 
for  the  heavy  iron  chain  hit  him  on  the  spine,  and  the  pain 
must  have  been  intense.  The  blow  in  this  case  did  not  break 
the  skin,  though  I saw  subsequent  ones  given  to  other  mules 
which  made  bloody  gashes  in  their  backs.  We  changed  mules 
every  fifteen  or  twenty  miles,  and  we  rarely  had  a team  that 
was  not  deeply  scarred  and  bloody  when  we  reached  a stopping- 
place. 

On  this  journey  I had  a taste  of  the  country  hotels  of  Bolivia. 
They  are  more  like  stables  than  taverns.  The  stalls  for  the 
mules  and  the  one-story  huts  which  contain  the  rooms  for  the 
human  guests  are  built  together,  so  that  one  can  hear  the  don- 
keys bray  and  the  hogs  grunt  as  one  goes  to  sleep.  None  of 
the  rooms  have  windows;  the  floors  are  of  mud  and  stone,  and 
the  beds  are  mere  ledges  of  sun-dried  bricks,  upon  which  mat- 
tresses are  laid.  Most  of  the  rooms  have  several  beds  in  them, 
so  I seldom  slept  without  room-mates.  Before  retiring  the  land- 
lady always  came  in  and  collected  a <(  Bolivian,”  equal  to  33  cents 
of  our  money,  for  the  use  of  the  bed.  She  did  not  give  me  a 
light,  so  I had  to  use  a candle  I brought  with  me,  a spot  of 
melted  grease  on  a table  or  chair  serving  as  the  candlestick. 

We  left  the  hotels  at  five  o’clock  every  morning.  We  usually 
were  up  before  daybreak  and  at  half-past  four  a cup  of  tea  and 
a biscuit  were  served.  This  is  the  first  breakfast  of  all  hotels  in 
Bolivia,  and  it  had  to  suffice  for  our  first  twenty  miles.  At 
eleven  o’clock  we  generally  reached  a station  for  breakfast.  This 
usually  consisted  of  a vegetable  soup,  followed  by  dishes  of 
stewed  meats  swimming  in  grease.  Dinner  was  served  at  the 
close  of  the  day’s  journey.  It  was  about  the  same  character  as 
the  noon  breakfast.  Luckily  I had  had  a lunch  put  up  for  me 
on  leaving  La  Paz:  this  cost  me  ten  dollars;  but  it  seemed 
cheap  when  I found  that  it  gave  me  the  only  food  I could  eat 
on  the  way.  And  this  was  upon  one  of  the  most  travelled  roads 
of  Bolivia,  where  the  accommodations  are  considered  extraordi- 
narily good.  The  fare  on  the  mule  trails  is  far  worse,  and  those 
who  go  into  the  less  travelled  parts  often  suffer  severely.  Their 
only  sleeping-places  are  in  the  huts  of  the  Indians,  who  do  not 


174  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

like  strangers  and  will  not  entertain  them  if  they  can  possibly 
help  it.  The  fact  that  you  offer  them  money  makes  no  differ- 
ence; often  indeed  the  only  way  to  get  a night’s  shelter  is  to 
enter  by  force  and  take  possession  of  the  best  part  of  the  hut. 
If  there  is  anything  eatable  at  hand  you  had  better  take  it  and 
afterwards  give  the  owner  some  money  in  payment.  If  you  offer 
to  buy  he  will  refuse;  and  even  when  he  has  plenty  will  tell 
you  he  has  nothing.  When  you  leave  in  the  morning  you  pay 
him  for  the  night’s  lodging,  and  he  then  thanks  you  for  what 
he  has  granted  only  by  force.  The  Bolivian  Indians  are  great 
cowards  and  they  will  submit  even  to  much  abuse  without 
fighting. 

I saw  the  Indians  all  along  the  plateau  from  La  Paz  to  Oruro. 
Nearly  all  were  working,  toiling  hard  for  a bare  living.  The 
climate  is  such  that  only  potatoes,  barley,  and  quinua  will  grow, 
and  the  soil  is  so  poor  that  it  is  only  here  and  there  that  a 
patch  can  be  farmed.  Indeed  the  effort  to  get  cultivable  land 
is  a serious  drawback  to  industry:  in  many  places  the  soil  is  too 
stony  to  cultivate;  in  others  cultivation  is  only  possible  when 
the  stones  have  been  picked  off  to  make  place  for  the  crops. 
We  passed  long  stretches  of  country  dotted  with  piles  of  stones, 
and  I often  saw  Indian  women  going  along  bent  double,  gather- 
ing stones  into  the  held-up  skirts  of  their  dresses,  and  carrying 
them  to  the  piles. 

Parts  of  the  plateau  are  covered  with  a scanty  growth  of  grass, 
upon  which  herds  of  sheep  and  llamas  feed.  Each  herd  is  watched 
by  an  Indian  shepherdess,  who  uses  a sling  to  keep  the  animals 
from  straying,  and  with  unerring  aim  sends  the  stone  straight  at 
the  llama  or  sheep  that  strays  to  a neighbour’s  fields.  There  are 
no  fences  in  this  part  of  Bolivia.  The  cattle  in  the  fields  are,  as 
a rule,  staked  or  hobbled  by  tying  a rope  about  their  front  legs 
just  above  the  ankles.  One  often  sees  a drove  of  donkeys  so 
fastened. 

The  farming  is  all  done  after  the  crudest  methods.  I saw  no 
manure  anywhere  used,  although  there  were  great  piles  of  it  lying 
at  each  stable  where  we  got  a new  relay  of  mules.  I am  told 
that  the  natives  know  nothing  of  fertilizers,  and  that  they  recu- 
perate the  land  by  letting  it  lie  fallow,  or  by  a rotation  of  crops. 

Most  of  the  farming  tools  are  of  native  manufacture,  the  only 
American  tools  being  Hartford  axes.  Potatoes  are  dug  by  the 


A WILD  RIDE  WITH  THE  BOLIVIAN  MAILS 


175 


women,  who  use  short  strips  of  iron,  shaped  something  like  an 
arrow,  with  a wide  flat  stem.  This  is  grasped  in  the  middle  with 
the  hand,  and  the  woman,  bending-  double,  thus  scoops  the  pota- 
toes out  of  the  hills.  Barley  is  cut  with  small  sickles  with  saw 
teeth,  and  such  rude  hoes  as  are  used  have  handles  so  short  that 
the  workers  have  to  bend  over  toward  the  ground  to  use  them. 
The  ploughing  is  all  done  by  oxen  with  rude  wooden  ploughs,  to 
which  a point  made  of  a flat  iron  bar  about  two  inches  wide  is 
fastened.  A long  tongue  or  beam  extends  from  the  plough  to  the 
yoke,  which  is  tied  to  the  horns  of  the  oxen,  the  weight  of  pull- 
ing the  plough  being  done  with  the  head,  and  not  with  the  shoul- 
ders as  with  us. 

The  ways  through  the  Bolivian  mountains  are  mule  trails, 
some  of  which  have  been  cut  out  of  the  sides  of  precipices  so 
that  you  crawl  along  within  an  inch  of  destruction.  Now  and 
then  a pack  mule  drops  three  thousand  feet  or  more,  and  is  usu- 
ally left  to  lie  where  it  falls.  One  often  has  to  dismount  to  help 
the  mules,  and  it  sometimes  takes  hours  to  advance  a few  miles. 
The  total  length  of  the  Bolivian  stage  lines  is  less  than  the  dis- 
tance between  New  York  and  Cleveland.  Freight  is  carried  from 
one  part  of  the  country  to  another  on  the  backs  of  women  and  men 
or  on  donkeys,  mules,  or  llamas.  On  the  way  I passed  many 
droves  of  donkeys  and  llamas  coming  to  Oruro.  Some  were 
loaded  with  bundles  of  cacao,  while  others  carried  bags  of  silver 
ore.  Each  train  was  managed  by  a party  of  men  and  women 
who  walked  with  the  animals,  never  riding  them. 

Owing  to  the  poor  methods  of  transportation  it  is  questionable 
whether  Bolivia  can  offer  much  to  Americans  in  the  way  of  a 
market.  Such  goods  as  are  sold  must  be  put  up  in  boxes  or 
bales,  of  about  one  hundred  pounds  each,  so  that  two  packages 
will  just  form  a load  for  a mule;  otherwise  the  chief  centres  of 
trade  cannot  be  reached.  The  character  of  the  Bolivian  people 
is  such  that  they  can  never  be  large  consumers.  The  Indians 
who  form  the  majority  have  few  wants  which  the  country  does 
not  supply.  The  naked  savages  of  the  eastern  slopes  require 
nothing.  The  semi-civilized  Indians  of  the  plateau,  as  I have  al- 
ready said,  weave  their  own  clothes  of  llama  wool.  They  make 
their  cooking  utensils  of  clay  and  raise  their  own  food. 

At  present  the  bulk  of  the  foreign  trade  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  Germans,  who  are  established  in  all  the  large  towns  and  who 


176  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

deal  not  only  in  German,  but  in  English  and  American  goods.  I 
saw  many  American  sewing  machines  in  La  Paz,  and  also  Con- 
necticut hardware  and  firearms.  The  imports  of  Bolivia,  as  esti- 
mated by  one  of  our  Ministers,  are  about  $12,000,000  a year,  and 
the  exports  amount  to  about  $20,000,000,  the  latter  consisting  of 
the  products  of  the  mines  and  forests.  From  the  mines  come 
vast  quantities  of  copper,  silver,  and  tin,  and  a small  amount  of 
gold,  and  from  the  forests  are  taken  rubber  and  Peruvian  bark. 


BOLIVIAN  LLAMAS 


CHAPTER  XIX 


AMONG  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINES  OE  THE  ANDES 

Bolivia’s  enormous  Silver  Output  — It  has  produced  four  billion  dol- 
lars’ WORTH  OF  THE  MeTAL THE  SILVER  MOUNTAIN  OF  POTOSI  AND  THE 

RICH  MINES  OF  CERRO  DE  PASCO THE  GOLD  MINES  OF  EASTERN  BOLIVIA 

— The  Tipuani  placer  deposits  now  being  worked  by  Americans  — 
Prospecting  in  the  Andes  — The  richest  tin  mines  in  the  World. 

jro  is  one  of  the  chief  mining  centres  of  Bolivia.  There 
are  rich  deposits  of  silver  and  tin  in  the  mountains  about 
it,  and  the  work  in  the  mines  goes  on  night  and  day. 
There  are  valuable  copper  mines  not  far  from  here;  the  whole 
country,  in  fact,  seems  to  be  a bed  of  rich  minerals.  In  the 
Huanani  tin  district  there  is  a conical  mountain  containing  a 
network  of  tin  veins,  in  some  of  which  the  pure  ore  has  been 
followed  down  for  six  hundred  feet.  In  the  Avecaya  district, 
nearby,  the  tin  lodes  are  from  one  to  three  feet  in  thickness, 
now  and  then  widening  out  into  great  masses  of  solid  ore;  in 
other  mines  there  are  veins  of  tin  from  six  to  eight  feet  wide. 
The  word  Titicaca  means  (<Tin  Stone  (> ; the  tin,  moreover,  is  so 
pure  that  it  is  shipped  to  Europe  as  it  comes  from  the  mines. 
Quite  recently  tin  mines  have  been  discovered  near  the  shores 
of  Lake  Titicaca  at  an  altitude  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea. 

The  tin  is  extracted  in  the  same  way  as  in  silver  mining:  the 
ore  is  first  blasted  down  and  dug  out.  It  is  then  broken  into 
pieces,  and  smelted  in  blast  furnaces,  and  finally  run  off  into  fifty- 
pound  pigs. 

Oruro  makes  me  think  of  the  larger  villages  in  the  Valley  of 
the  Nile,  with  the  green  fields  and  the  Nile  left  out.  It  lies 
amidst  the  bare  gray  hills  of  a desert.  Its  streets  are  narrow 
and  unpaved.  Its  houses,  with  few  exceptions,  are  of  one  story, 
made  of  mud  bricks  and  thatched  with  straw.  They  are  squalid 
in  the  extreme,  and  everything  connected  with  them  is  dilapidated 

(i77) 


178  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

and  dirty.  The  town  is  devoted  to  mining.  It  is  supported  by 
the  silver  and  tin  mines  about  it,  and  its  people  are  mostly  min- 
ers. They  are  Cholos,  for  the  pure  Indians  do  not  like  to  work 
in  the  mines. 

One  of  the  largest  of  the  silver  mines  is  just  above  the  city. 
It  is  the  property  of  Chileans,  though  managed  by  Bolivians.  Its 
capital  is  $1,000,000,  and  its  stock  is  said  to  be  250  per  cent 
above  par.  The  miners  are  Bolivian  Cholos.  They  labour  half- 
naked  in  the  tunnels,  for  the  mine  is  as  hot  as  an  oven,  and 
its  ventillation  is  poor.  In  all  about  700  hands  are  employed, 
the  workmen  receiving  daily  wages  equal  to  thirty  cents  of  our 
money.  Only  the  best  of  the  ore  is  taken  out  of  the  mines,  and 
this  is  broken  into  little  pieces  and  sorted  over  at  the  surface. 
The  breaking  is  done  by  Indian  women,  who  pick  out  the  rich 
ore  and  throw  the  poorer  pieces  away.  There  were  about  300 
women  at  work  at  the  time  of  my  visit.  They  were  squatting 
on  the  ground  and  pounding  the  rock  to  pieces  with  hammers. 
Every  one  of  them  was  chewing  coca  leaves,  and  I could  see 
the  fat  quids  swelling  their  cheeks.  I asked  as  to  the  wages 
paid  them,  and  was  told  that  they  worked  from  daylight  till  dark 
for  about  seventeen  cents  of  our  money  per  day. 

It  is  by  such  methods,  and  at  this  low  cost,  that  most  of  the  sil- 
ver of  Bolivia  has  been  given  to  the  world.  The  country  has  had 
the  richest  silver  deposits  ever  discovered.  Bolivia  has  produced 
more  than  four  billion  dollars’  worth  of  silver,  and  should  the 
price  of  silver  again  rise  she  could  flood  the  markets.  Her 
methods  of  mining  have  been  so  wasteful  that  there  are  to-day, 
in  the  refuse  of  her  abandoned  mines,  millions  of  ounces  of  silver 
ore  which  modern  machinery  could  reduce  at  a profit. 

The  mineral  territory  of  Bolivia  is  very  large.  Deposits  of 
tin  and  silver  are  found  throughout  the  mountainous  parts  of  the 
country  for  a distance,  north  and  south,  of  1,500  miles,  and,  east 
and  west,  of  210  miles.  The  region  is  full  of  abandoned  mines, 
out  of  which  only  the  richest  of  the  ore  has  been  taken.  Some 
of  the  mines  were  opened  up  by  the  Spaniards,  who  forced  the 
Indians  to  do  the  work,  making  them  burrow  through  the  earth 
to  get  out  the  ore.  Some  of  the  mines  have  been  in  operation 
for  centuries;  among  others  the  silver  mountains  of  Potosi,  out 
of  which  have  been  taken  almost  three  billion  dollars’  worth  of 
silver. 


AMONG  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINES  OF  THE  ANDES 


179 


The  mineral  deposits  of  the  Andes  are  in  truth  compara- 
tively unknown.  Peru  has  silver  mines  almost  as  rich  as  those 
of  Bolivia.  It  has  indeed  two  thousand  different  mines,  although, 
owing  to  the  low  price  of  silver,  only  a few  are  now  being 
worked.  At  Hualgayoc,  in  northern  Peru,  there  are  within  the 
area  of  forty  square  leagues  four  hundred  silver  mines,  some  of 
which  are  producing  as  much  as  three  hundred  ounces  of  silver 
to  the  ton.  This  is  the  region  which,  according  to  Alexander 
Humboldt,  produced  thirty-three  million  dollars’  worth  of  silver 
in  thirty  years.  The  ore  is  mined  by  Indians  with  hammers  and 
drills;  they  burrow  through  the  mountains  like  rats,  taking  out 
only  the  richest  parts  of  the  ore.  They  labour  almost  naked, 
wearing  only  breech  cloths,  and  utter  weird  and  melancholy  cries 
as  they  work. 

They  carry  the  ore  out  of  the  mines  in  rawhide  sacks  upon 
their  backs.  An  Indian  will  climb  up  a ladder  or  notched  stick 
bearing  150  pounds  of  ore  and  go  off  on  a dog  trot  with  it.  At 
the  surface  the  ore  is  broken  up  with  hammers  into  small  pieces. 
It  is  next  ground  by  rolling  circular  stones  over  it  and  then 
mixed  with  quicksilver  after  the  patio  process  by  driving  mules 
around  through  it.  Much  of  the  ore  is  now  reduced  to  a sulphide 
and  taken  in  this  shape  on  mules  to  the  coast,  where  it  is  shipped 
to  Europe  for  farther  treatment. 

The  same  sort  of  work  goes  on  at  the  famous  Cerro  de  Pasco 
mines,  in  the  Andes  back  of  Lima,  and  in  nearly  all  the  silver 
regions  of  Bolivia  and  Peru.  The  Cerro  de  Pasco  mines,  now 
in  active  operation,  number  more  than  300,  and  about  60  miles 
away,  at  Yauri,  on  the  Oroya  railroad,  225  silver  mines  are  being 
worked.  Cerro  de  Pasco  has  always  been  thought  to  be  the 
crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  It  is  situated  about  14,000  feet 
above  the  sea  in  one  of  the  bleakest  parts  of  the  Andes.  The 
town,  which  has  now  5,000  people,  lies  in  a basin  surrounded 
by  barren  rocks.  The  deposits  consist  of  a great  body  of  low- 
grade  silver  ore  more  than  a mile  and  a-half  long  by  three- 
quarters  of  a mile  wide.  This  has  been  worked  down  to  a 
depth  of  over  250  feet,  at  which  level  numerous  tunnels  have 
been  driven  in  to  drain  the  mines.  The  great  trouble  is  the 
water,  and  farther  mining  can  be  done  only  by  lower  tunnels 
or  heavy  pumps.  Henry  Meiggs,  the  American  engineer  who 
constructed  so  many  great  works  in  Peru,  began  a tunnel  150 


180  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

feet  below  the  present  level.  The  work  was  stopped,  however, 
when  900  feet  in  from  the  surface,  and  at  present  nothing  is 
being  done.  The  tunnel  will  need  to  be  extended  from  900 
to  1,800  feet  farther  before  the  ore  is  struck,  and  at  the  pres- 
ent low  price  of  silver  there  is  little  prospect  of  this  being  at- 
tempted. 

Within  a short  time  there  has  been  something  of  a revival  of 
the  silver  industry  at  Cerro  de  Pasco,  owing  to  rich  deposits  of 
copper  which  lie  under  the  low-grade  silver  ores,  and  the  camp 
to-day  is  more  one  of  copper  than  of  silver.  In  the  past  the 
Cerro  de  Pasco  mines  have  produced  enormous  quantities.  Be- 
tween the  years  1630  and  1824,  27,200  tons' of  pure  silver  were 
taken  out  of  them,  and  the  dumps  of  the  mines,  if  scientifically 
worked,  would  still  yield  a fortune.  Twenty  years  ago  Cerro  de 
Pasco  was  turning  out  more  than  a million  ounces  of  silver  a 
year,  and  sixty  million  dollars’  worth  of  silver  have  already  been 
taken  from  under  the  ground  where  this  mining  camp  now  stands. 
The  mines  were  discovered  in  the  seventeenth  century  by  an  In- 
dian who  camped  out  one  night  near  the  spot.  Before  going  to 
sleep  he  built  a fire  upon  two  stones  and  awoke  to  find  that  his 
stones  had  melted  and  that  a lump  of  silver  slag  had  taken  their 
place. 

There  are  but  few  smelting  works  in  the  Andes.  One  of  the 
largest  has  been  built  by  three  Americans,  Messrs.  Backus  and 
Johnston,  capitalists  of  Lima,  and  Captain  H.  Gever,  an  Ameri- 
can mining  engineer.  This  smelter  is  situated  on  the  Oroya 
railroad,  about  95  miles  back  from  the  coast,  at  an  altitude  of 
two  and  one-half  miles  above  the  sea.  The  station  is  called 
Casapalca.  The  smelter  is  similar  to  the  great  smelting  works 
of  Denver.  The  ore  is  brought  from  the  mines  near  by  and  a 
great  deal  is  carried  from  Cerro  de  Pasco,  about  seventy  miles 
away,  on  the  backs  of  llamas.  It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for 
1,200  llamas  to  be  unloaded  in  one  day  at  Casapalca,  and  during 
my  visit  to  the  smelter  I found  the  yard  filled  with  these  curious 
beasts  of  burden. 

Within  the  past  few  years  a number  of  Americans  have  been 
prospecting  for  gold  in  Peru  and  Bolivia.  They  find  colour  every- 
where, but  so  far  have  discovered  no  quartz  mines  of  great  value. 
Professor  A.  A.  Hard,  a Denver  mining  engineer  with  whom  I 
travelled,  says  that  there  are  rich  veins  and  deposits  of  gold  in 


AMONG  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINES  OF  THE  ANDES  181 

the  Sorata  mountains;  he  predicts  that  they  will  some  day  fur- 
nish a gold  excitement  equal  to  that  of  the  Klondike. 

Several  days  north  from  La  Paz  is  the  Tipuani  river,  one  of 
the  most  famous  of  the  gold  streams  of  the  eastern  Andes.  Its 
placer  mines  were  worked  in  the  days  of  the  Incas,  and  from  it 
the  Spaniards  have  extracted  large  amounts  of  gold.  The  Tipuani 
rolls  down  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Andes  into  the  Maperi,  thence 
into  the  Beni,  through  which  its  waters  find  their  way  into  the 
Madeira  and  the  Amazon.  It  is  about  300  feet  wide,  and  so 
deep  in  most  places  that  the  Indians  have  not  been  able  to  reach 
the  bed  rock  in  the  centre  of  the  river.  So  far  they  have  washed 
only  along  the  banks  during  the  dry  season.  Their  mode  of 
working  is  to  stand  in  water  up  to  their  waists  and  scrape  the 
gravel  together  with  their  feet.  When  they  have  made  a little 
pile  they  dive  down  and  gather  it  up  in  pans,  often  washing 
fifty  cents  worth  of  gold  out  of  one  pan  of  gravel. 

Some  years  ago  a Spaniard  made  a fortune  by  working  one 
hole  in  the  bed  of  the  Tipuani.  He  formed  a brigade  of  Indians 
whom  he  equipped  with  rude  cows-skin  buckets.  He  then  par- 
tially drained  the  river  by  means  of  a dam  and  by  passing  the 
buckets  of  gravel  and  water  rapidly  from  one  Indian  to  another 
was  able,  after  three  years,  to  reach  the  bed  rock.  Within  four 
years  thereafter  he  took  out,  it  is  said,  $140,000  worth  of  gold 
dust  and  nuggets.  According  to  another  story,  he  mined  900 
pounds  of  gold  in  a single  year.  In  this  region  some  Colorado 
miners  are  now  working  with  steel  dredges.  The  dredges  were 
made  in  Denver  and  were  sent  in  pieces  to  Mollendo,  Peru,  thence 
up  the  railroad  to  Puno,  and  by  boat  across  Lake  Titicaca  to  Chi- 
lilaya.  From  here  they  were  brought  over  the  mountains  to  the 
river  on  the  backs  of  mules.  The  miners  expect  to  dredge  out 
the  Tipuani,  and  to  have  the  bed  rock  swept  and  scraped  by  men 
in  diving  suits. 

Most  of  the  gold  mining  of  Bolivia  is  carried  on  with  native 
labour  on  a very  rude  plan.  Take  for  instance  the  placer  diggings 
of  the  Cnuguiaguillo  river,  not  far  from  La  Paz.  The  river  has 
cut  a gully  several  hundred  feet  deep  through  the  basin  in 
which  La  Paz  is  situated.  This  gully  is  walled  with  gravel 
which  contains  more  or  less  gold.  When  I visited  the  mines  a 
score  of  Indians  were  digging  down  the  dirt,  loading  it  into 
wheel  barrows  and  dumping  it  into  wooden  sluice  boxes,  through 
S.  A. — 12 


182  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

which  the  water  from  the  river  was  conducted.  On  the  bottom 
of  the  boxes  were  iron  frames  so  laid  that  they  caught  the  heav- 
ier parts  of  the  gravel  and  the  gold,  while  the  water  carried  the 
dirt  off  into  the  river.  There  was  no  quicksilver  used,  the  miners 
depending  entirely  upon  the  weight  of  the  gold  to  throw  it  to 
the  bottom  as  it  went  through. 

Shortly  after  I arrived  the  water  was  partly  turned  off  and  the 
gravel  left  in  the  boxes  panned  out  for  the  gold.  The  panning 
was  done  by  three  Indians,  who  sat  on  the  sides  of  the  sluices  with 
their  bare  legs  in  the  water  and  dipped  up  the  gravel  into  bowls 
like  those  we  use  for  making  bread  or  chopping  hash.  Such 
bowls  are  common  everywhere  in  Bolivia  for  gold-panning.  The 
Indians  carefully  washed  the  dirt  out  of  the  gravel.  They  picked 
it  up  by  the  handful  and  threw  it  away,  looking  for  bits  of  yel- 
low metal  among  the  dark  stones.  After  a while  the  gravel  was 
all  thrown  out  and  in  each  bowl  was  a little  pile  of  gold  peb- 
bles. There  was  no  gold  dust,  the  deposits  ranging  from  bits  of 
pure  gold  as  big  as  the  head  of  a pin  to  nuggets  as  large  as 
one’s  little  finger  nail.  One  of  the  larger  nuggets  weighed  about 
half  an  ounce,  and  I was  told  it  was  worth  ten  dollars.  The  gold 
was  all  coarse  gold,  and  if  there  was  any  dust  it  was  lost. 

The  gold  of  this  part  of  Bolivia  does  not  lie  in  pockets,  but 
is  distributed  with  regularity  through  beds  of  gravel.  Now  and 
then  large  nuggets  are  found.  One  for  instance  was  picked  up 
out  of  the  mines  I have  just  described  two  hundred  years  ago 
and  sold  for  more  than  $11,000.  It  was  sent  to  Spain  and  kept 
for  a time  in  the  Museum  at  Madrid.  One  day  it  was  discovered 
that  it  had  been  stolen  and  a gilded  imitation  left  in  its  place. 
The  director  of  the  museum  was  arrested,  but  nothing  could  be 
proved  against  him.  The  nugget  was  never  recovered.  While 
we  were  at  the  mine  the  skeleton  of  an  Indian  was  dug  up.  He 
had  probably  been  searching  for  gold  and  the  earth  had  caved 
in  and  buried  him. 

There  are  gold  fields  in  Peru  which  have  recently  been  sold 
to  an  American  syndicate  for  $285,000.  There  are  also  regions 
in  Bolivia  which  could  be  profitably  worked,  but  it  is  safe  to  say 
that  there  is  no  mining  country  here  to  which  an  American  who 
has  not  capital  can  come  with  a reasonable  expectation  of  mak- 
ing a fortune.  The  Indians  have  been  mining  in  Bolivia  for 
centuries.  In  the  days  of  the  Incas  they  worked  the  gold-bearing 


AMONG  THE  GOLD  AND  SILVER  MINES  OF  THE  ANDES  183 

grounds  over  and  over.  They  were  forced  to  do  the  same  under 
their  Spanish  taskmasters,  so  that  to-day  the  only  gold  possibili- 
ties are  those  which  require  the  expenditure  of  large  capital  and 
considerable  modern  machinery. 

Prospecting  in  the  Andes  is  exceedingly  difficult.  The  miner 
must  take  his  provisions  with  him,  for  there  is  no  game  to  speak 
of,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  live  off  the  country.  He  must 
carry  his  own  tents,  for  there  are  no  houses  whatever  in  the 
out-of-the-way  districts.  There  is  no  fuel,  and  the  winds  of  these 
high  altitudes  are  damp,  cold,  and  bone-piercing. 

In  the  rainy  season  the  grass  on  the  plateau  forms  a soft  mat 
which  so  holds  the  water  that  going  over  it  is  like  walking  on 
wet  sponges,  and  no  boots  can  keep  one’s  feet  dry.  The  best  of 
leather  is  little  protection,  and  rubber  cracks  and  peels  when 
exposed  to  it.  In  the  dry  season  the  winds  and  sun  of  the  high- 
lands tan  you,  and  at  times  the  cold  is  so  intense  that  the  na- 
tives wear  masks  of  knitted  wool  to  protect  their  faces.  The 
masks  have  holes  for  the  nose,  eyes,  and  mouth,  and  they  make 
their  wearers  look  like  Mephistopheles.  I used  a mask  during 
my  travels  in  the  Andes,  and  found  it  such  a protection  that  I 
would  not  now  travel  in  a cold  country  without  it. 


CHAPTER  XX 


A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS 

The  Nitrate  Deserts  of  Chile,  in  which  the  English  have  Invested 
One  Hundred  Million  Dollars — How  Nitrate  of  Soda  is  Mined  — 
A Visit  to  the  Fields  — The  Extent  of  the  Deposits  and  the  Pe- 
culiarities of  the  Nitrate  Towns  — A Look  at  Ascotan,  the  Borax 
Lake  of  the  Andes  — Six-Hundred  Miles  by  Rail  over  Salty  Plains. 

eaving  the  silver-mining  town  of  Oruro,  I came  down  the 
mountains  on  the  little  narrow  gauge  which  connects 
it  with  its  seaport,  Antofagasta,  in  Chile.  The  distance 
is  600  miles,  or  about  as  far  as  from  New  York  to  Cleveland. 
The  track  is  only  two  feet  six  inches  wide.  It  is,  I believe,  the 
longest  one  of  this  gauge  in  the  world.  The  cars  are  of  the 
American  style  and  were  built  in  Massachusetts.  They  are  so 
small  that  you  feel  you  are  riding  in  toy  cars,  rather  than  on  the 
through  trunk  line  and  only  rail  connection  between  two  great 
countries. 

Nevertheless  the  road  is  smooth  and  well  laid.  It  has  ties  of 
Oregon  pine  and  its  stations  are  built  of  corrugated  iron  from 
Europe.  The  fares  are  exceedingly  high.  I paid  $51  in  silver 
for  my  ticket,  and,  in  addition,  $36  for  extra  baggage,  as  nothing 
whatever  is  allowed  free.  My  meals  at  the  dining  stations  cost 
me  $1.50  each  in  silver,  and  when  I stopped  over  night,  as  I did 
twice  during  the  journey,  the  hotel  charges  were  at  the  rate  of 
$4  per  day.  The  chief  purpose  of  the  road  is  to  carry  the  silver 
and  other  metals  to  the  seacoast.  Our  train  had  several  cars 
loaded  with  lumps  of  silver  ore,  and  we  passed  train  loads  of 
tin  on  our  way  to  the  Pacific. 

The  ride  was  through  a desert.  Shortly  after  leaving  Oruro 
we  entered  the  salt  plains  of  Bolivia.  These  are  of  vast  ex- 
tent, lining  the  road  for  hundreds  of  miles.  In  fact,  there  are 
but  few  places  between  Oruro  and  the  sea  where  the  soil  is  not 
more  or  less  mixed  with  salt,  and  in  some  districts  salt  covers 

(184) 


A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS  185 

the  land  like  a sheet  of  dirty  white  snow.  Along  some  parts  of 
the  line  the  salt  looks  hard  and  icy,  and  one  feels  like  jumping 
off  the  cars  for  a skate.  At  other  places  it  lies  in  gullies,  and 
at  still  others  it  only  sprinkles  the  ground  and  a ragged  growth 
of  scrubby  vegetation  struggles  up  through  it.  The  road  runs 
for  nearly  the  whole  of  its  length  through  a desert  valley,  the 
salt-covered  land  reaching  away  on  either  side  to  the  hills. 

Here  and  there  along  the  railroad  are  lakes  on  which  seem  to 
be  floating  cakes  of  ice.  The  cakes  are  not  ice,  however.  They 
are  borax.  One  of  the  lakes  is  the  great  borax  lake  of  Ascotan, 
Bolivia,  which  has  enough  borax  to  supply  all  the  laundries  in 
the  world.  This  lake,  it  is  estimated,  has  more  than  100,000  tons 
of  pure  borax  ready  to  be  shipped  to  the  outside  markets.  I saw 
the  lake  on  my  left  on  the  way  to  the  coast.  It  is  about  six 
miles  square.  The  borax  (borax  of  lime)  lies  in  great  masses 
which,  when  taken  out,  look  like  the  finest  of  pure  white  spun 
silk,  wadded  up  or  woven  into  lumps.  It  is  not  of  so  good  a 
quality,  I am  told,  as  the  borax  of  similar  lakes  in  California. 
Still  it  is  of  considerable  value,  for  the  lake  was  recently  sold  to 
a German  syndicate  for  ^90,000  sterling. 

Lake  Ascotan,  however,  is  as  a drop  in  the  ocean  compared 
with  the  enormous  value  of  the  nitrate  fields  which  I crossed  as 
I neared  the  Pacific, — ’fields  so  valuable  that  they  could  almost 
pave  the  desert  of  Chile  with  gold.  They  have  produced  millions 
upon  millions  of  tons  of  nitrate  of  soda;  and  it  is  estimated  that 
more  than  1,200,000  tons  of  nitrate  will  be  shipped  from  them 
this  year. 

The  value  of  the  nitrate  deposits  is  such  that  when  they  were 
in  the  hands  of  the  Peruvians  they  made  that  nation  rich,  and 
now  that  they  belong  to  Chile,  as  a result  of  her  war  with  Peru, 
she  gets  more  than  half  her  revenue  from  the  export  duties 
which  she  collects  from  them.  The  working  of  the  fields  is  in 
the  hands  of  foreigners  and  more  than  $100,000,000  of  English 
capital  is  invested  in  the  oficinas  or  factories  through  which  the 
nitrate  is  taken  from  the  earth  and  prepared  for  the  foreign 
markets.  For  years  Chile  has  been  exporting  from  $20,000,000 
to  $30,000,000  worth  of  nitrate.  She  annually  ships  close  upon 
1,000,000  tons  to  Europe,  and  not  a small  amount  to  the  United 
States.  We  buy  about  $3,000,000  worth  annually,  using  it  for 
fertilizers  and  for  making  powder  and  high  explosives.  It  is  as 


l86  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

a fertilizer  that  the  chief  demand  for  nitrate  arises,  the  bulk  of 
the  product  going  to  Germany,  where  it  is  used  in  growing  the 
sugar  beet. 

There  are  nitrate  fields  near  Antofagasta,  but  the  best  nitrate 
is  found  farther  north,  near  Iquique,  which  I visited.  This  is 
the  chief  nitrate  port  of  the  world.  During  my  stay  I went  out 
to  the  fields  and  visited  the  factories,  spending  some  time  at  the 
oficina  of  the  Agua  Santa  Company,  which  has  a capital  of 
$3,000,000  and  which  produces  nitrate  by  the  millions  of  pounds 
every  month. 

But  before  describing  how  nitrate  is  taken  out  of  the  earth,  let 
us  see  where  the  fields  are.  In  the  first  place  the  word  a fields  w is 
misleading.  It  suggests  the  idea  of  fences  and  visible  boundaries. 
The  nitrate  fields  are  lost  in  the  desert;  their  only  boundaries 
are  white  posts  at  the  corners  of  the  property.  With  this  excep- 
tion there  are  no  marks  whatsoever  and  no  material  at  hand  to 
make  them.  There  are  no  stones  lying  about,  and  not  enough 
waste  wood  to  fence  a city  lot.  There  is  not  a blade  of  grass, 
and  only  now  and  then  a scrubby  tree.  Outside  the  region  all 
is  bare  gray  sand,  with  here  and  there  a glint  of  white,  where 
the  salt  rock  has  caught  the  rays  of  the  sun.  There  are,  indeed, 
few  more  barren  places  in  the  world  than  the  coast  of  this  des- 
ert. The  upper  part  of  Chile  is  as  bleak  as  the  most  arid  regions 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  is  a mass  of  sand  and  rock  extend- 
ing from  the  shore  almost  to  the  top  of  the  Andes.  Bordering 
the  coast  there  is  a low  range  of  foot-hills  rising  in  places  a 
mile  or  more  above  the  sea.  Beyond  this  a rolling  valley  runs 
from  north  to  south,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley  are  the 
foot-hills  of  the  Andes. 

It  is  along  the  western  edge  of  the  valley  that  the  nitrate  is 
found.  In  some  places  it  is  not  more  than  15  miles  and  in  others 
as  far  as  90  miles  from  the  sea,  but  the  deposits  all  lie  along 
the  western  edge  of  the  valley,  forming  a strip  of  an  average 
width  of  about  a mile,  which  runs  irregularly  from  north  to  south 
for  a distance  of  more  than  300  miles.  In  some  places  the  de- 
posit is  4 miles  wide,  and  in  others  it  plays  out  altogether  and 
crops  out  some  distance  farther  on.  In  a few  fields  the  nitrate 
rock  lies  on  the  top  of  the  soil.  In  others  it  is  found  30  or 
40  feet  below  the  surface,  with  a strata  of  salt  rock  on  top.  The 
nitrate  itself  is  seldom  found  pure  in  nature,  though  much  of  the 


A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS  187 

rock  contains  from  40  to  60  per  cent  of  nitrate.  The  Antofagasta 

rock  does  not  average  more  than  14  per  cent  and  other  fields 

vary  with  the  nature  of  the  deposit.  It  is  getting  the  nitrate 

rock  out  of  the  earth  and  extracting  the  pure  nitrate  salts  from 
it  that  constitutes  the  immense  industry  of  the  nitrate  fields. 

As  to  where  the  nitrate  originates  there  are  a number  of  the- 
ories. One  is  that  the  desert  was  once  the  bed  of  an  inland  sea 
and  that  the  nitrate  came  from  the  decaying  of  the  nitrogenous 
seaweed.  Another  theory  is  that  the  ammonia  rising  from  the 
beds  of  guano  on  the  islands  off  the  coast  was  carried  by  the 
winds  over  the  range  of  coastal  hills  and  there  condensed,  settled 
and  united  with  other  chemicals  in  the  soil  to  form  the  deposit. 
Still  a third  theory  is  that  the  electrical  discharges  of  the  Andes 
combined  with  the  elements  of  the  air  to  make  nitrate  acid. 
This  acid,  it  is  supposed,  was  carried  down  through  the  ages  in 
the  floods  of  the  Andes  and  deposited  on  these  beds  in  the  form 
of  nitrate  of  soda.  None  of  these  theories  is  entirely  satisfac- 
tory, and  as  yet  no  one  has  absolutely  solved  the  problem  whence 
the  nitrate  comes. 

We  shall  see  better  how  nitrate  is  mined  by  a visit  to  the 
great  pampa  of  Tamrugal.  This  pampa  has  60  miles  of  oficinas 
and  nitrate  fields.  A railroad  has  been  built  through  it  to  carry 
the  nitrate  to  the  seacoast  at  Iquique,  and  on  it  have  grown  up 
vast  factories,  thousands  of  corrugated  iron  huts,  in  which  the 
workmen  employed  in  the  business  live,  and  other  buildings,  the 
homes  of  the  well-educated  Europeans  who  manage  the  proper- 
ties. 

Leaving  Iquique  the  railroad  carries  you  up  the  hill  and 
brings  you  right  into  the  nitrate  fields.  It  continues  over  a 
plain  about  30  miles  wide,  with  low  hills  rising  up  to  the  right 
and  left.  On  the  side  of  this  plain  nearest  the  sea  the  earth 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  ploughed  by  giants;  it  is  covered  with 
mammoth  clods  of  all  shapes  and  sizes.  These  are  the  nitrate 
fields  which  have  been  or  are  being  worked.  The  rest  of  the 
land  is  bleak,  bare  sand.  There  is  no  vegetation  and  no  sign  of 
life  of  any  kind.  All  is  sand  salt  rock  and  amid  the  clods  pieces 
of  nitrate  rock  or,  as  it  is  here  called,  caliche.  It  is  a soluble 
rock  of  different  colours.  In  some  places  it  is  almost  white  and 
looks  like  rock  salt.  In  others  it  is  yellow,  and  in  others  still  all 
shades  of  gray,  lemon,  violet,  and  green  appear. 


1 88  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  strata  of  nitrate  usually  lies  two  feet  or  more  under  the 
earth,  and  there  is  often  a salt  rock  or  conglomerate  strata  above 
it.  The  method  of  getting  it  out  is  to  bore  a round  hole,  about 
a foot  in  diameter,  through  the  upper  crust  and  for  a few  inches 
into  the  soft  earth  below  the  nitrate  rock.  Into  this  hole  a boy 
is  let  down.  He  scoops  out  a pocket  for  the  blasting  powder 
and  arranges  the  fuse.  He  is  then  pulled  out  and  the  fuse  is 
lit.  With  the  explosion  which  follows,  a yellow  cloud  of  smoke 
and  dust  goes  up  into  the  air  and  the  earth  is  broken  for  a 
radius  of  about  thirty  feet  about  the  hole.  The  nitrate  rock  is 
now  dug  out  with  picks  and  crow-bars.  It  is  broken  into  pieces 
of  thirty  pounds  or  less  and  loaded  upon  iron  carts  to  be  taken 
to  the  factories.  Each  cart  will  hold  three  tons  of  rock,  the 
carts  being  hauled  by  three  mules,  the  driver  riding  on  one  of 
the  animals. 

The  factory  to  which  the  nitrate  rock  is  taken  usually  stands 
in  the  midst  of  the  field.  It  is  a collection  of  buildings,  with 
tall  smoke-stacks  rising  above  them,  containing  thousands  of 
dollars’  worth  of  costly  machinery,  vast  tanks  for  boiling  the 
nitrate  rock,  crushers  like  those  of  a smelter  to  break  it  to 
pieces,  and  settling  vats  in  which  the  liquid  containing  the  pure 
nitrate  of  soda  is  left  until  it  has  dropped  its  burden  of  valuable 
salt. 

The  caliche  of  the  Agua  Santa  fields,  as  we  saw  it  blasted 
out  of  the  earth,  contains  only  about  40  per  cent  of  nitrate  of 
soda.  The  nitrate  of  soda  sent  to  the  markets  is  95  or  96  per 
cent  pure,  and  the  rock  must  be  so  treated  that  the  impurities 
will  be  removed  from  it.  This  is  done  by  boiling  it,  just  so 
much  and  no  more.  The  crushers  first  reduce  it  to  pieces  about 
two  inches  thick.  It  is  then  taken  to  the  boiling  tanks  situated 
in  a building  erected  upon  a framework,  so  that  the  tanks  are 
about  50  feet  above  the  ground.  Each  tank  is  large  enough  to 
form  a bath-tub  for  an  elephant.  They  are  24  feet  long,  9 feet 
wide,  and  8 feet  deep.  In  each  there  are  coils  of  steam  pipe  by 
which  the  temperature  of  the  fluid  in  the  tank  can  be  raised  to 
any  desired  point.  The  caliche  is  carried  in  cars  up  an  inclined 
railway  and  dumped  into  the  tanks.  Then  water  is  admitted 
and  allowed  to  flow  from  tank  to  tank  in  such  a way  as  to  act 
to  the  best  advantage  on  the  salts  within.  Nitrate  of  soda  will 
remain  in  solution  at  a lower  temperature  than  other  salts.  This 


A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS  189 

fact  and  others  of  a scientific  nature  are  taken  advantage  of, 
everything  being  done  with  the  greatest  care,  and  the  result  is 
that  when  the  fluid  is  drawn  off  nearly  all  the  pure  nitrate  of 
soda  in  the  rock  goes  with  it. 

From  the  boiling  tanks  the  nitrate  of  soda  flows  into  other 
tanks  which  lie  at  a lower  level  in  the  open  air.  It  now  looks 
like  pale  maple  molasses  or  thick  lemon  syrup.  In  a short  time 
it  begins  to  crystallize  and  the  tank  is  soon  half-filled  with 
almost  pure  nitrate  of  soda.  This  is  shovelled  out  into  piles  to 
dry.  It  is  then  bagged  up  in  sacks  of  300  pounds  each  and 
hauled  on  the  railroad  to  the  seacoast  to  be  shipped  off  to  the 
United  States  or  to  Europe. 

After  the  salt  has  settled  in  the  tanks  the  liquor  still  contains 
a large  amount  of  nitrate.  In  this  case  it  is  conveyed  back  to 
the  boiling  tank,  where  it  is  loaded  with  more  nitrate  by  being 
flowed  over  the  fresh  rock.  But  I shall  not  describe  the  techni- 
cal details  of  the  process,  which  is  complicated  in  the  extreme. 
They  were  explained  to  me  by  Mr.  James  T.  Humberstone,  the 
manager  of  the  Agua  Santa  oficinas,  who,  of  all  the  nitrate  man- 
agers, is  perhaps  the  best  posted  upon  such  matters.  I will  only 
say  that  the  greatest  care  is  taken  to  get  every  atom  of  nitrate 
out  of  the  rock  at  the  lowest  possible  cost,  and  that  I was  again 
and  again  surprised  at  the  careful  saving  of  every  cent  in  pro- 
duct and  labour  throughout  the  works.  It  was  indeed  a lesson  in 
economy,  and  when  I referred  to  it  Mr.  Humberstone  said: 
(<  The  nitrate  profits  of  to-day  are  a question  of  small  things. 
Our  product  is  so  great  that  the  difference  of  a cent  in  the  cost 
of  100  pounds  is  an  important  item.  It  would,  indeed,  mean  to 
us  a saving  of  at  least  $1,200  a month.” 

Mr.  Humberstone  also  showed  me  how  the  iodine  of  com- 
merce is  made  from  the  nitrate  liquor.  It  is  a constituent  part 
of  the  caliche,  separate  from  the  nitrate  of  soda,  and  it  forms  a 
valuable  product  of  the  nitrate  fields.  It  is  precipitated  from  the 
nitrate  liquor  by  means  of  bisulphide  of  soda  and  is  drawn  off  in 
the  shape  of  a dirty  black  powder.  The  powder  is  washed  and 
filtered  and  then  put  into  iron  retorts  and  heated.  It  soon  turns 
to  a vapour,  which  being  conducted  into  pipes  of  fire-clay  changes 
as  it  condenses  into  crystals  of  a beautiful  violet  colour.  These 
crystals  are  packed  and  shipped  to  Europe,  all  going  to  a London 
firm  which  has  the  monopoly  of  the  iodine  trade  of  the  world 


1 90  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Connected  with  this  company  are  the  nitrate  owners  of  Chile  who 
have  combined  into  a trust  which  dictates  just  how  much  each 
factory  may  make  every  year. 

The  price  of  nitrate  lands  has  steadily  risen  for  years  and  to- 
day the  only  properties  to  be  had  outside  those  owned  by  the 
79  factories  now  working  are  from  the  Chilean  government, 
which  sells  at  auction  only  when  it  is  anxious  to  raise  money. 
At  the  last  auction  2,000  acres  were  appraised  at  $3,500,000;  they 
sold  for  more  than  their  appraisement.  The  demand  for  nitrate 
of  soda  is  limited,  and  while  it  is  believed  that  the  amount  in  sight 
will  last  the  world  at  the  present  rate  for  50  years  and  more, 
the  Chilean  government  is  anxious  not  to  ruin  the  business  by 
throwing  more  land  just  now  upon  the  market. 

Even  after  the  land  has  been  bought  it  costs  a great  deal  to 
establish  a nitrate  factory.  The  Agua  Santa  establishment,  for  in- 
stance, has  a capital  of  $3,000,000  in  gold.  Its  factory  alone  cost 
nearly  $700,000.  It  has  buildings  which  cost  $200,000,  and  its  water 
supply  cost  $50,000.  It  is  now  employing  800  hands,  to  whom  it 
pays  an  average  of  $2,000  a day  in  wages,  and  the  colonies  sup- 
ported by  its  works  numbers  3,000  souls.  It  owns  the  seaport  of 
Caleta  Buena  and  has  a railroad  from  its  nitrate  fields  to  the  sea. 
It  has,  all  told,  an  enormous  expenditure,  but  notwithstanding 
this  it  pays  regular  dividends  of  10  per  cent. 

Such  is  one  of  the  establishments  which  this  salty  rock  has 
built  up  in  the  desert.  It  amazes  one  to  see  the  other  factories 
which  lie  in  the  fields  here  and  there,  some  of  which  are  almost 
as  large.  All  along  the  nitrate  railroad  in  this  barren  valley  are 
towns  of  corrugated  iron,  with  hotels  and  stores,  and  upon  the 
seacoast,  which  is  if  anything  more  barren  and  desert-like  than 
the  nitrate  fields,  there  are  a number  of  thriving  cities,  whose 
very  existence  is  founded  upon  nitrate  of  soda. 

I wish  I could  take  the  reader  for  a walk  through  one  of 
them' — through  this  town  of  Iquique,  for  instance.  It  lies  on  the 
edge  of  the  sea  under  the  bare  ragged  hills  which  fringe  the 
coast.  There  is  not  a blade  of  grass  about  it  and  not  a drop  of 
water,  save  that  which  comes  to  it  in  ships  or  flows  through  the 
iron  pipe  lines,  75  miles  long,  which  have  been  laid  down  to  bring 
the  springs  of  Pica  to  it.  Still  Iquique  is  next  to  Valparaiso  the 
most  thriving  seaport  of  Chile.  It  has  30,000  inhabitants  and 
does  an  enormous  trade.  It  has  wide  streets,  telephones,  and 


A CHEMICAL  LABORATORY  OF  THE  GODS 


191 


electric  lights,  and  a street-car  line,  with  Chilean  girls  as  conduct- 
ors. It  has  a newspaper,  a theatre,  and  as  good  an  English  club 
as  one  will  find  along  the  west  coast  of  South  America.  It  has 
fine  stores  and  markets,  and  although  it  produces  nothing  but 
nitrate  of  soda  and  must  get  everything  from  the  outer  world, 
one  can  live  as  well  in  it  and  have  as  great  a variety  of  interest 
as  in  any  place  in  South  America.  Antofagasta,  although  not  so 
large  as  Iquique,  is  equally  well-favoured,  as  are  also  several  other 
ports  on  the  desert. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


AMONG  THE  CHILENOS 

The  Yankees  of  South  America  and  their  Country  — Odd  Features  of 
the  Slimmest  Land  in  the  World  — Its  Wonderful  Riches  — Its  vast 
Deposits  of  Guano,  Gold,  Silver,  and  Copper  — Valparaiso,  the  New 
York  of  the  Southern  Pacific. 

he  voyage  down  the  coast  of  Chile  gives  one  an  idea  of  its 
enormous  length.  It  is  five  days  by  steamer  from  the  ni- 
trate fields  to  Valparaiso,  and  the  German  ship  on  which 
I shall  sail  for  Tierra  del  Fuego  will  require  nine  days  to  reach 
Punta  Arenas,  on  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  Chile  is  like  a long- 
drawn-out  sausage  or  an  attenuated  worm.  The  only  land  that 
compares  with  it  is  Egypt,  which  drags  its  weary  length  for  more 
than  1,000  miles  between  deserts  along  the  valley  of  the  Nile. 
Chile  begins  in  a desert,  and  continues  a desert  for  more  than 
1,000  miles.  Later  on,  it  bursts  out  into  a green  valley  between 
high  mountains,  ending  in  the  grassy  islands  of  the  southernmost 
part  of  this  hemisphere.  Chile  is  nowhere  over  200  miles  wide, 
and  in  some  places  not  more  than  50;  but  it  is  so  long  that  if  it 
were  laid  out  upon  the  United  States,  beginning  at  New  York,  it 
would  make  a winding  track  across  it  to  far  beyond  Salt  Lake.  If 
it  could  be  stretched  upon  our  country  from  south  to  north,  with 
Tierra  del  Fuego  at  the  lowermost  edge  of  Florida,  its  upper 
provinces  would  be  found  in  Hudson  Bay,  almost  even  with  the 
top  of  Labrador.  Its  length  is  2,600  miles. 

Chile  embraces  all  of  the  land  between  the  tops  of  the  Andes 
and  the  Pacific  ocean  south  of  the  River . Sama,  which  divides  it 
from  Peru,  and  it  possesses  in  addition  most  of  the  islands  about 
the  Strait  of  Magellan.  The  question  as  to  just  where  the 
boundary  of  Chile  and  the  Argentine  Republic  lies  has  been  one 
of  dispute  between  the  two  countries,  and  although  now  appar- 
ently settled  it  is  one  which  may  bring  about  a war  sooner  or 
later. 

(192't 


^ CHILEAN  TYPES 


AMONG  THE  CHILENOS 


J95 


Chile  is  a land  of  many  climates.  It  is  now  winter  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Equator,  but  I found  it  quite  warm  in  the 
north.  At  Valparaiso  one  needs  an  overcoat  when  the  sun  is 
not  shining,  but  at  the  Strait  of  Magellan  the  ground  is  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  during  the  winter  months  darkness  comes 
on  at  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  In  my  travels  in  west- 
ern Peru  and  Bolivia  weeks  passed  without  a drop  of  rain.  It 
never  rains  in  northern  Chile;  the  cities  there  are  as  dry  as  the 
Sahara,  the  great  question  in  most  of  them  being  where  to  get 
water  to  drink.  At  Mollendo,  Peru,  a little  above  the  Chilean 
boundary  the  water  supply  comes  from  the  Andes  through  an 
iron  pipe  more  than  ioo  miles  long.  At  Iquique,  water  is  piped  a 
distance  of  80  miles,  and  Antofagasta  gets  its  drinking  water  away 
up  in  the  Andes,  180  miles  back  from  the  coast.  The  Antofagasta 
aqueduct  is,  I believe,  the  longest  in  the  world.  I travelled  for 
days  along  its  course  in  coming  down  to  the  sea,  and  on  the 
borders  of  Bolivia  I visited  the  great  reservoir  within  a stone’s 
throw  of  a dead  volcano  down  which  its  mountain  water  flows. 
At  many  of  the  nitrate  settlements  water  is  bought  and  sold. 
The  steam  at  the  factories  is  condensed  and  there  are  engines 
which  are  used  to  make  potable  water  from  that  of  the  sea. 

As  you  sail  from  the  desert  region  southward  you  now  and 
then  pass  valleys  in  which  a little  river  from  the  Andes  has 
made  everything  green,  but  it  is  not  until  you  reach  Valparaiso 
that  the  rainfall  is  heavy  enough  to  cover  the  whole  country 
with  verdure.  Still  farther  south  the  rains  increase  until  at  a 
distance  of  300  or  400  miles  you  come  into  a territory  where  the 
people  facetiously  say  that  it  rains  thirteen  months  every  year. 
At  Port  Montt,  in  South  Chile,  the  rainfall  is  118  inches  every 
twelve  months,  while  at  Valparaiso  it  is  only  15  inches.  Here, 
and  in  the  northern  part  of  the  central  valley,  the  climate  is 
much  like  that  of  southern  California.  The  skies  are  bright  for 
at  least  eight  months,  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  year 
there  are  only  occasional  showers. 

Considering  Chile  as  a long  sausage,  we  find  it  full  of  excel- 
lent meat.  There  are  few  countries  of  its  size  which  have  such 
natural  resources.  I have  written  of  the  nitrate  fields,  which 
have  already  netted  hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars  and  which 
cannot  possibly  be  exhausted  for  half  a century  to  come.  A 
member  of  the  Chilean  Congress  tells  me  that  there  are  deposits 


196  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

of  guano  near  the  nitrate  fields  which  surpass  in  richness  the 
guano  islands  of  Peru,  being  worth  many  hundred  million  dol- 
lars. He  says  this  guano  lies  on  the  mainland  and  only  a few 
feet  below  the  surface. 

All  of  North  Chile,  is  full  of  minerals.  In  coming  to  Val- 
paraiso I stopped  at  several  ports  which  have  copper  and  silver 
smelting  works.  At  Antofagasta  there  is  a smelter,  said  to  be 
the  largest  in  the  world.  It  belongs  to  the  Huanchaco  Mining 
Company.  When  I visited  it  I was  shown  several  acres  covered 
with  bricks  of  silver  ore  which  had  been  ground  to  dust  and 
so  moulded  that  they  might  be  the  more  easily  smelted.  At 
Iquique  I met  a New  Yorker  who  owned  valuable  silver  mines 
not  far  from  that  city.  His  mines  are  so  profitable  that  they 
have  rapidly  made  him  rich;  they  have  netted  him  so  much  that 
he  has,  it  is  said,  laid  aside  ^3,000,000  sterling,  as  a reserve  fund 
in  the  Bank  of  England.  This  seemed  to  me  a rather  extrava- 
gant story,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  man  is  very  rich. 

One  of  the  chief  copper  ports  of  Chile  is  Coquimbo,  a town 
of  7,000  inhabitants,  situated  on  a beautiful  bay  about  190  miles 
north  of  Valparaiso.  Not  far  from  it  is  one  of  the  richest  copper 
deposits  of  South  America.  The  ore  is  almost  pure  copper,  and 
the  mine  owners  aver  that  the  deposit  is  inexhaustible.  Chile 
has  already  produced  nearly  four  billion  pounds  of  copper.  In 
1896,  it  shipped  about  50,000,000  pounds,  most  of  which  went  to 
Europe.  This,  however,  is  not  great  in  comparison  with  the 
United  States,  whose  copper  product  during  the  same  year  was 
more  than  nine  times  as  large.  From  Coquimbo  they  are  now 
exporting  about  1,000  tons  of  copper  per  month,  and  several 
smelters  are  there  kept  busy  turning  the  ore  into  bars. 

Chile  has  also  large  deposits  of  iron  manganese,  quicksilver, 
and  lead.  There  are  gold  mines  in  the  southern  sections,  and 
much  gold-washing  is  now  being  done  along  the  shores  of  Tierra 
del  Fuego.  There  is  also  gold  in  the  north,  where  a large  part 
of  the  mountains  have  not  been  well  prospected  and  where  the 
mines  have  so  far  been  worked  after  the  most  wasteful  methods, 
so  that  the  waste  ore  on  the  dumps  could  be  smelted  at  a profit. 

The  Chileans,  or  the  Chilenos,  as  they  call  themselves,  are  the 
Yankees  of  South  America.  They  are  by  far  the  most  progress- 
ive people  on  the  western  coast  of  the  continent.  One  notices  this 
at  once  on  entering  the  country.  Even  the  nitrate  ports  have  a 


(198)  VALPARAISO,  CHILE 


AMONG  THE  CHILENOS 


199 


stirring  business  air  about  them.  I found  cabs  at  the  stations 
ready  to  take  me  to  the  hotels,  and  I could  post  my  letters  with- 
out fearing  that  the  mail  clerks  might  destroy  them  in  order  to 
steal  the  stamps,  as  some  of  the  clerks  in  the  smaller  post-offices 
of  Peru  and  Bolivia  have  been  charged  with  doing. 

The  Chilenos  number  nearly  three  millions.  They  are  like  the 
nations  north  of  them,  the  descendants  of  Spaniards  and  Indians 
and  of  the  union  of  Spaniards  and  Indians,  but  the  Spaniards  who 
came  to  Chile  were  from  the  Basque  provinces,  which  have  the  best 
of  the  Spanish  population,  and  the  Indians  of  Chile  at  the  time  of 
the  Conquest  were  probably  the  hardiest  Indians  on  the  hemi- 
sphere. It  was  long  before  they  could  be  subdued,  and  their  strength 
is  still  seen  in  the  mixed  race  formed  by  their  union  with  the 
Spaniards.  These  Indians  were  the  Araucanians,  a few  of  whom 
still  live  in  a semi-civilized  state  in  southern  Chile,  and  of  whom 
I shall  have  more  to  say  farther  on.  To-day  only  about  one-third 
of  the  population  is  pure  white,  the  remaining  two-thirds  being 
from  the  cross  of  the  Spaniards  with  the  Indians.  Notwithstand- 
ing their  fewness,  the  whites  own  most  of  the  property.  They 
rule  the  country  and  are  practically  the  masters  of  the  half- 
breeds,  who  form  the  labouring  class  of  the  Chilenos. 

Valparaiso  is  the  chief  seaport  of  Chile,  the  New  York  of  the 
Pacific  coast  of  South  America,  being  the  best  business  point  on 
the  west  coast.  It  is  the  port  nearest  the  capital  and  the  great 
central  valley  of  Chile,  and  thus  forms  the  chief  entrepot  of  the 
country,  having  an  import  and  export  trade  of  more  than  $100,- 
000,000.  Valparaiso  has  in  the  neighbourhood  of  150,000  peo- 
ple, but  its  business  is  twice  as  large  as  any  town  of  its  size  in 
the  United  States.  It  is  beautifully  situated,  being  built  about  a 
bay,  the  shape  of  a half-moon,  and  large  enough  to  float  the  ships 
of  the  world,  but  not  altogether  safe  at  periods  when  the  great 
storms  prevail.  About  the  bay  is  an  amphitheatre  of  hills,  rising 
almost  perpendicular  and  forming  the  site  of  the  city.  The  busi- 
ness section  is  at  the  base  of  the  hills.  It  is  upon  ground  re- 
claimed from  the  sea  by  walls  of  stone  and  iron  railing  which 
give  the  place  excellent  wharves. 

The  harbour  was  filled  with  ships  when  we  came  to  anchor, 
and  our  first  glimpse  of  the  city  was  through  a forest  of  smoke- 
stacks and  masts  belonging  to  the  large  and  small  craft  in  the 
bay.  Through  this  forest  we  could  see  green  hills  covered  with 


200  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

houses,  hills  so  steep  that  I wondered  how  the  houses  could  stand 
upon  them.  The  streets  rise  one  above  another  in  the  form  of 
terraces,  and  the  buildings  above  hang  out  and  are  apparently 
about  to  fall  upon  those  below.  There  is,  here  and  there,  a 
break  or  gully  in  the  hilly  walls  of  the  amphitheatre,  and  at 
several  points  cable  cars  were  seen  crawling  up  or  down  the 
steep  incline. 

On  landing  I was  surprised  to  find  that  nearly  every  man  I 
addressed  answered  me  in  English.  Valparaiso  is  more  like  a 
European  port  than  any  I have  yet  visited  on  the  South  Ameri- 
can continent.  Some  of  its  business  blocks  remind  one  of  Paris, 
its  store  signs  bear  European  names,  and  the  goods  seen  through 
plate-glass  windows  are  as  well  displayed  as  are  those  of  New 
York  or  Chicago.  I saw  many  English  and  German  women,  fash- 
ionably dressed,  shopping  in  the  stores. 

The  streets  of  Valparaiso  are  paved  with  Belgian  blocks.  The 
city  is  lighted  with  electricity.  It  has  cable  connections  with 
Europe  and  the  United  States;  it  has  telegraph  lines  reaching  to 
all  parts  of  Chile,  and  long-distance  telephone  lines  to  the  larger 
cities.  The  scenes  on  the  streets  are  interesting.  There  are  drays, 
cabs,  and  carriages  rushing  along,  and  among  them  peddlers  with 
their  stocks  in  panniers  slung  across  mules.  There  are  street  cars 
with  pretty  girls  as  conductors,  Chile  being  one  of  the  few  coun- 
tries in  the  world  where  women  collect  the  street-car  fares.  The 
custom  originated  at  the  time  of  the  war  with  Peru,  when  all  the 
men  were  needed  for  fighting.  At  that  time  the  street-car  con- 
ductors resigned  and  enlisted,  and  women  were  engaged  to  take 
their  places.  They  did  so  well  that  the  street-car  companies  re- 
tained them  after  the  war  was  over,  and  they  form  to-day  one  of 
the  pleasantest  features  of  rapid  transit  in  every  Chilean  city. 
The  conductresses  wear  sailor  hats,  dark  dresses,  and  white 
aprons,  in  the  pockets  of  which  they  carry  their  money  and  tick- 
ets. Some  of  them  are  remarkably  pretty,  but  it  is  said  that  the 
pretty  ones  seldom  stay  long.  They  get  lovers  or  husbands,  and 
give  up  the  service.  The  conductresses  are  usually  honest,  but 
the  companies  have  spotters,  men  spies  who  go  through  the  cars 
to  see  that  the  girls  make  proper  registration  of  all  the  fares 
they  receive.  The  spies  are  hated  by  the  girls,  who  have  nick- 
named them  Judases. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


ON  ROBINSON  CRUSOE'S  ISLAND 


The  Scene  of  Alexander  Selkirk’s  Adventures  — The  Island  of  Juan  Fer- 
nandez, and  how  the  Chilean  Government  proposes  to  Colonize  it 
— The  Guano  Islands,  out  of  which  Peru  has  dug  Millions — What 
Guano  is  — The  Galapagos  Islands,  and  the  Robinson  Crusoe  of 
Ecuador. 

binson  Crusoe’s  (<  Desert  Island  ” is  to  be  a desert  island 
no  longer.  The  President  of  Chile  and  a party  of  officials 
have  recently  explored  it  and  the  Chilean  government 
expects  to  colonize  it.  During  my  stay  in  Valparaiso  I learned 
much  of  the  condition  of  the  island  from  members  of  the  Presi- 
dent’s party,  and  it  is  from  photographs  made  by  them  that  the 
illustrations  of  this  chapter  are  taken. 

The  island  is,  as  is  known,  that  of  Juan  Fernandez,  lying  about 
600  miles  west  of  Valparaiso.  It  is  now  about  200  years  since 
Alexander  Selkirk,  the  sailing-master  of  an  English  vessel  of 
ninety  tons,  was  placed  upon  it.  Selkirk  had  fallen  out  with  the 
captain  and  headed  a mutiny,  the  result  of  which  was  that  he 
had  the  choice  of  being  hanged  at  the  yardarm  or  left  on  the  is- 
land of  Juan  Fernandez.  He  accepted  the  latter  alternative  and 
with  a small  supply  of  provisions  was  landed  in  what  is  now 
called  Cumberland  Bay.  This  was  in  September,  1703.  He  lived 
there  four  years  and  four  months,  when  an  English  privateer,  at- 
tracted by  his  watch-fires,  called  at  the  island  and  conveyed  him 
to  England. 

During  his  stay,  Selkirk  had  many  of  the  adventures  described 
in  Defoe’s  tale  of  ® Robinson  Crusoe,”  although  Defoe,  having 
a better  knowledge  of  the  islands  north  of  Brazil,  in  the  Carib- 
bean sea,  has  made  much  of  his  story  correspond  to  them  in  its 
descriptions  of  scenery,  products,  and  climate.  The  outline  of 

(203 1 


204  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Defoe’s  story  was,  however,  suggested  by  Selkirk’s  adventures, 
and  one  can  almost  trace  poor  Crusoe’s  wanderings  in  his  life  on 
Juan  Fernandez.  In  the  first  place,  the  terrors  which  assailed 
Selkirk,  when  he  found  himself  alone  on  the  island,  were  the 
same  as  those  of  Crusoe.  He  wished  for  a time  that  he  had 
chosen  to  be  hanged  rather  than  have  come  ashore.  Later  on 
he  found  an  Indian  who  had  been  lost  in  the  woods,  having 
landed  with  a party  which  Selkirk  did  not  see.  This  Indian  he 
adopted,  and  his  story  concerning  him  was  the  foundation  of 
Robinson  Crusoe’s  man  Friday.  You  remember  the  nursery 
rhyme  which  depicts  how  Robinson  Crusoe  was  dressed: 

"Poor  old  Robinson  Crusoe!  Poor  old  Robinson  Crusoe! 

He  made  him  a coat  of  an  old  nanny  goat ! 

I wonder  how  he  could  do  so.” 


When  Selkirk  was  found,  according  to  the  narrative  of  Captain 
Rodgers,  who  took  him  to  England,  " he  was  clad  in  goat-skins 
and  was  running  about  as  though  he  were  demented.”  He  had 
built  a fire  on  a rock,  now  known  as  " Robinson  Crusoe’s  Look- 
out,” and  had  in  this  way  attracted  the  ship’s  attention.  This 
lookout  is  on  an  immense  hill,  which  rises  almost  perpendicularly 
from  the  shore  and  the  top  of  which  can  be  seen  miles  off  at 
sea. 

When  Selkirk  arrived  in  London  he  became  the  talk  of  the 
town.  He  was  discussed  at  the  clubs  and  coffee-houses,  and  Sir 
Richard  Steele  wrote  a paper  describing  his  adventures.  In  this 
he  told  how  Selkirk,  on  first  landing  in  England,  seemed  to  have 
become  eccentric  and  odd  through  his  solitude,  but  how,  later 
on,  this  eccentricity  wore  off.  Selkirk  himself  published  a small 
pamphlet  of  twelve  pages  describing  his  wanderings. 

The  bulk  of  "Robinson  Crusoe,”  however,  came  from  the  brain 
of  Daniel  Defoe.  It  was  his  genius  that  made  it  the  greatest 
story  of  adventure  the  world  has  ever  known.  It  was  written 
in  London  and  was  first  published  180  years  ago.  A copy  of 
the  first  unabridged  and  original  edition  is  to  be  seen  in  a glass- 
case  in  the  library  of  the  British  Museum.  Later  editions  have 
been  considerably  altered,  and  it  is  said  there  are  few  books 


COAST  SCENE,  JUAN  FERNANDEZ 


(205) 


ON  ROBINSON  CRUSOE’S  ISLAND 


207 


which  have  been  so  mutilated  by  the  printers.  It  is  now  to 
be  read  in  almost  every  known  language,  having  been  trans- 
lated into  Spanish,  German,  Italian,  Russian,  Greek,  and  Arabic. 
When  I was  in  China,  a few  years  ago,  I was  told  that  in 
a Chinese  edition  it  was  exciting  the  minds  of  the  youthful 
Celestials. 

The  Island  of  Juan  Fernandez  is  a great  mass  of  rock,  twelve 
miles  long  by  seven  miles  wide,  which  rises  in  places  almost 
abruptly  from  the  sea.  It  is  made  up  of  mountains,  valleys,  and 
ravines.  Its  northern  half  is  covered  with  dense  vegetation,  but 
on  the  south  it  is  as  bare  and  bleak  as  the  Peruvian  desert.  The 
best  landing-place  is  at  Cumberland  Bay,  where  there  is  a fishing 
settlement  which  includes  most  of  the  people  on  the  island,  num- 
bering all  told  not  more  than  fifteen.  Back  of  the  settlement 
are  some  straw  huts  which  were  once  occupied  by  agriculturists 
and  stock-raisers.  The  huts  are  made  of  cane  and  wattled  straw. 
The  farming  and  stock-raising  did  not  pay,  and  to-day  the  only 
animals  on  the  island  are  wild  goats  and  mules. 

The  new  colony  is  to  be  established  on  the  northern  part  of 
Juan  Fernandez,  where  the  soil  is  rich.  The  hills  are  covered 
with  wild  oats,  and  every  open  spot  has  a covering  of  good  grass. 
There  are  fruit  trees,  the  product  of  some  planted  by  Selkirk  200 
years  ago;  there  are  also  wild  fruits,  and  grapes  as  delicious  as 
those  which  Robinson  Crusoe  dried  for  raisins.  Pears,  peaches, 
and  quinces  are  to  be  found,  growing  wild,  and  vegetables  es- 
caped from  cultivation. 

There  are  many  caves  on  Juan  Fernandez,  in  some  of  which, 
it  is  said,  Alexander  Selkirk  lived.  One  is  in  a ridge  of  volcanic 
rock.  It  is  as  large  as  the  average  parlour,  with  a roof  fifteen 
feet  above  the  floor.  The  entrance  to  it  is  sixteen  feet  in  height, 
the  cave  extending  inward  about  thirty  feet.  In  the  walls  are 
little  holes  or  pockets  such  as  Robinson  Crusoe  describes  in  his 
cave  home,  and  here  and  there  are  rusty  nails,  hammered  into 
the  rock,  it  is  stated,  by  buccaneers  who  used  the  cave  when  the 
island  was  one  of  their  favourite  resorts.  Other  caves  are  covered 
with  ferns,  which  grow  so  luxuriantly  that  it  is  easy  to  imagine 
that  Selkirk  planted  the  hedges  there  to  hide  his  home  from 
view. 

There  is  a monument  to  Selkirk  on  Juan  Fernandez.  It  is  a 
marble  tablet  set  in  the  rocks  at  Robinson  Crusoe’s  Lookout  by 


208  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

some  English  naval  officers  in  1868.  It  bears  the  following  in- 
scription : 

In  Memory  of 

Alexander  Selkirk,  Mariner, 

A native  of  Largo,  in  the  County  of  Fife,  Scotland,  who  lived  on  this 
island,  in  complete  solitude,  four  years  and  four  months. 

He  was  landed  from  the  “ Cinque  Ports”  galley,  96  tons,  18  guns.  A.  D. 

1704,  and  was  taken  off  in  the  “ Duke,”  privateer,  12th 
February,  1709. 

He  died  Lieutenant  of  H.  M.  S.  “Weymouth,”  A.  D.  1723,  aged  47  years. 

This  tablet  is  erected  near  Selkirk’s  Lookout  by  Commodore  Powell 
and  the  officers  of  H.  M.  S.  “Topaz,”  A.  D.  1868. 

The  uninhabited  Galapagos  Islands,  which  I passed  in  coming 
down  the  coast  of  Ecuador,  have  more  recently  had  an  Alexan- 
der Selkirk.  This  man,  who  was  deserted  by  his  companions, 
was  found  years  afterwards  quite  naked  and  carrying  a pig  on 
his  back.  He  had  lived  upon  fruits  and  roots,  and  had  caught 
wild  cattle  in  traps  and  killed  them  with  a spear,  formed  of  a 
pocket  knife  tied  to  a stick.  His  hut  was  made  of  hides.  The 
cattle  came  from  some  which  had  been  left  there  years  -ago  when 
the  Galapagos  Islands  were  used  as  a penal  colony  by  Ecuador. 

The  most  interesting  of  the  islands  of  the  southeastern  Paci- 
fic are  the  guano  islands.  In  proportion  to  their  size,  they  are, 
perhaps,  the  richest  islands  on  earth,  for  they  have  already  added 
more  than  one  billion  dollars  to  the  world’s  wealth.  Think  of 
realizing  a billion  dollars  out  of  a dung-hill ! That  is  what  Peru 
has  done  in  the  case  of  her  guano  islands.  Her  creditors  are 
getting  something  out  of  them  to-day,  although  not  so  much  as 
Peru  got  in  the  past. 

The  guano  islands  are  scattered  all  along  the  South  Pacific 
coast.  I first  met  them  north  of  Lima,  near  Salavary.  When  at 
Pacasmayo  I saw  a guano  ship  from  the  Lobos  islands,  and  off 
the  Bay  of  Pisco,  Peru,  I saw  the  famous  Chincha  Islands,  which 
have  produced  more  than  12,000,000  tons  of  this  bird  manure, 
and  brought  into  the  Peruvian  treasury  millions  upon  millions  of 
dollars.  The  shipping  of  guano  is  going  on  from  the  islands  to- 
day, although  the  deposits  are  so  nearly  exhausted  that  the  pres- 
ent annual  exports  probably  do  not  exceed  30,000  tons. 


ALEXANDER  SELKIRK’S  MONUMENT 


(209) 


ON  ROBINSON  CRUSOE’S  ISLAND 


2 I 1 


The  guano  islands  are  masses  of  volcanic  rock  which  rise  up 
out  of  the  ocean  in  a region  where  it  never  rains.  The  result  is 
they  have  not  a blade  of  grass  or  any  green  thing  upon  them. 
They  are  merely  islands  of  dry  rock,  which  for  some  reason  the 
pelicans,  sea  gulls,  and  other  birds  which  feed  by  the  millions 
along  the  shores  of  the  South  Pacific  ocean  have  chosen  as  their 
nightly  roosting-places.  Night  after  night  for  ages  the  birds 
have  come  to  rest  upon  them,  disregarding  other  islands  near 
by,  which  to  all  appearances  are  quite  as  desirable.  The  rocks  of 
the  islands  are  covered  with  a gray  deposit.  This  is  the  guano, 
which  is  chiefly  the  manure  of  birds,  although  it  has  mixed  with 
it  other  things,  such  as  seals,  which  when  alive  climbed  upon 
the  rocks  to  die.  Thousands  of  seal-skins  have  been  found  in 
the  guano,  500  tons  of  such  skins  were,  I was  told,  recently  ex- 
cavated from  one  spot. 

The  guano-making  birds  are  of  many  kinds,  the  most  import- 
ant being  the  pelican.  The  latter  fly  about  the  islands  in  such 
flocks  that  they  sometimes  darken  the  face  of  the  ocean.  They  feed 
upon  fish,  and  a flock  of  pelicans  is  a sign  that  there  is  a school 
of  fish  near  by.  They  scoop  up  the  fish  with  their  bills  into  the 
pouches  under  their  necks.  They  are  the  gluttons  of  the  sea, 
and  at  times  so  gorge  themselves  that  they  cannot  rise  from  the 
water,  but  must  rest  there  until  enough  of  their  food  has  been 
digested  to  lighten  their  weight.  I saw  millions  of  pelicans  on 
the  Lobos  islands.  They  are  sociable  birds  and  hunt  in  flocks, 
showing  no  sign  of  fear  of  human  beings,  and  one  can  go  up  on 
the  islands  and  approach  them  without  disturbing  them. 

The  guano  of  the  Lobos  islands  is  found  in  pockets  covered 
with  layers  of  sand,  which  vary  in  thickness  from  two  to  fifteen 
feet.  The  sand  is  shovelled  off  and  the  guano  taken  out.  As  it  is 
dug  into,  so  strong  a smell  of  ammonia  arises  that  the  men  wear 
iron  masks  over  their  faces  to  keep  the  ammonia  dust  out  of  their 
mouths,  noses,  and  lungs.  The  guano  looks  like  fine  sand,  which 
is  first  loaded  on  trucks  and  carried  on  a tramway  to  the  shore, 
where  it  is  transferred  to  the  ships,  to  be  taken  to  Europe  or 
America.  After  a few  days  at  sea  the  odour  disappears.  The 
ammonia  of  the  upper  crust  passes  off,  and  the  filthiness  of  the 
cargo  is  not  detected  until  one  goes  into  the  hold.  Guano  is  not 
worth  so  much  now  as  it  was  years  ago.  Other  fertilizers  have 
taken  its  place,  and  its  price  is  less  than  half  what  it  once  was. 


212  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

There  have  been  times  when  it  brought  $100  a ton.  To-day  it 
can  be  bought,  I am  told,  for  $30  to  $40  a ton. 

The  first  guano  shipment  to  Europe  was  made  more  than  fifty 
years  ago.  At  that  time  twenty  barrels  of  it  were  taken  to 
Liverpool  and  used  on  a farm  near  the  city.  The  result  was 
that  orders  were  sent  back  for  more,  and  soon  hundreds  of  ships 
were  engaged  in  carrying  guano  to  Europe.  Often  200  vessels 
could  be  counted  at  the  different  islands  at  one  time.  Chinese 
coolies  were  imported  to  get  the  guano  out.  Usually  they  were 
horribly  treated,  and  to-day  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  dead 
Chinamen  mixed  with  the  new  deposits.  For  a long  time  the 
guano  islands  provided  the  Peruvian  government  with  a revenue 
of  $15,000,000  a year.  Now  they  are  practically  exhausted,  and 
Peru,  having  lost  its  income  from  the  nitrate  fields  as  well,  has 
fallen  from  wealth  to  poverty. 


THE  ALAMEDO  (PUBLIC  WALK)  SANTIAGO 


S.  A. — 14 


ARCADE  IN  SANTIAGO,  CHILE 


(213) 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE  CITY  OF  SANTIAGO 

Special  Features  of  Life  and  Business  in  the  Chilean  Capital — A Bird’s- 
Eye  view  from  Santa  Lucia — Palaces  that  cover  Acres  and  cost 
Fortunes  — A Street-Car  Ride  for  a Cent  — High  Life  among  the 
Chilenos — -Paris  Dresses  and  Diamonds  — How  the  Nabobs  enjoy 
themselves  — Scenes  at  the  Opera  and  the  Races. 

|§P|he  capital  of  Chile  in  many  respects  compares  favorably 
fpipw  with  the  United  States  national  capital.  Santiago  is  of 
about  the  same  size  as  the  city  of  Washington,  and  is 
situated  a like  distance  from  the  ocean ; it  is  six  hours  distant 
by  rail  from  Valparaiso.  The  way  is  over  the  Coast  Range  of 
the  Andes,  and  the  express  trains  have  cars  like  those  on  the 
roads  between  New  York  and  Washington. 

Our  national  capital  is  washed  by  the  Potomac;  Santiago  has 
its  river  Mapocho,  which  cuts  the  city  in  two.  We  have  our 
Capitol  Hill,  and  Santiago  has  its  Santa  Lucia.  Santa  Lucia  lies 
in  the  midst  of  the  city ; it  is  a mass  of  volcanic  rock,  three- 
fifths  as  high  as  the  Washington  Monument.  It  has  a base  of 
an  acre  and  rises  precipitously  above  all  the  buildings,  so  that  at 
its  top  one  is  far  above  the  spires  of  the  cathedrals  and  churches. 
In  the  rocks  green  mosses,  flowers,  bushes,  and  curious  plants 
are  growing.  Out  of  them  rise  eucalyptus  trees;  from  their 
sides  gigantic  ferns  reach  out  so  that  the  hill  seems  a very  gar- 
den in  the  air,  almost  as  wonderful,  if  not  so  extensive,  as  the 
Hanging  Gardens  of  Babylon. 

The  best  view  of  Santiago  is  from  Santa  Lucia.  Let  us  look 
at  it  together.  The  way  to  the  summit  winds  about  through 
one  wonderful  rock  formation  after  another.  We  go  past  beauti- 
ful grottoes  and  cozy  nooks  and  finally  stand  upon  the  peak  with 
all  Santiago  below  us.  On  this  spot  we  are  above  a vast  expanse 
of  square  ridges  of  terra  cotta  tiles,  out  of  which,  here  and  there, 

(215) 


2 1 6 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

rise  trees  and  a wealth  of  green.  The  ridges  are  the  roofs  of 
the  Santiago  houses,  which  are  built  about  patios  and  courts,  the 
only  gardens  of  the  people. 

From  the  hill  we  see  that  most  of  the  buildings  are  of  one 
or  two  stories.  They  are  close  to  the  streets,  which  cross  one  an- 
other almost  at  right  angles,  the  city  being  divided  in  two  by  the 
wide  Alameda.  The  Alameda  is  the  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  the 
Champs  Elys6e,  the  Unter  den  Linden  of  Santiago.  It  is  twice 
as  wide  as  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  Washington,  and  it  runs  the 
full  length  of  the  city.  It  has  a roadway  on  either  side  and  in 
the  middle,  bordered  by  gurgling  streams  of  the  clearest  moun- 
tain water,  are  rows  of  great  poplar  trees  which  furnish  an 
arbour  of  dense  shade  extending  from  one  end  of  Santiago  to  the 
other.  In  this  arbour  are  the  statues  of  many  of  Chile’s  heroes, 
and  at  every  few  feet  throughout  its  full  length  are  stone  seats 
upon  which  people  rest  after  their  promenade.  Other  green  spots 
in  the  plain  of  terra-cotta  roofs  are  the  parks  of  Cousino  and 
the  Quinta  Normal,  or  Agricultural  College,  the  Hipico  race 
course,  and  the  new  avenue  which  has  recently  been  laid  out 
along  the  river  Mapocho.  The  Mapocho  is  one  of  Santiago’s 
characteristic  features.  It  is  130  feet  wide  and  runs  through  the 
city  for  about  two  miles.  This  part  of  its  bed  has  been  paved 
with  stone  and  the  banks  are  massive  stone  walls,  along  which 
shade  trees  have  been  planted. 

But  let  us  go  down  from  Santa  Lucia  and  ride  through  San- 
tiago on  the  top  of  a street-car.  There  is  no  better  way  of  see- 
ing the  city  than  this,  and  none  quite  so  cheap.  The  car-fares 
here  are  the  cheapest  in  the  world,  the  roof  seats  costing  only 
about  one  cent  of  our  money.  It  is  worth  more  than  that  to 
look  at  the  pretty  girl  conductor,  who  smiles  as  she  puts  our 
fare  into  her  white  apron  pocket.  As  we  board  the  car  we  notice 
that  the  streets  are  well  paved  with  Belgian  blocks.  They  are 
rather  narrow,  however,  and  the  big  ox  carts,  which  are  the  drays 
and  freight  waggons  in  Chile,  are  crowded  almost  to  the  walls 
of  the  houses  as  we  go  whizzing  by. 

How  large  the  houses  are  and  how  low.  Many  of  them  cover 
acres;  though  few  are  of  more  than  two  stories,  and  many  are 
only  of  one.  In  the  best  parts  of  the  city  the  houses  have  Greek 
fronts.  They  are  all  of  brick,  plastered  smooth  with  yellow  or 
white  stucco.  Their  doors  are  upheld  by  columns  of  stucco,  and 


THE  CITY  OF  SANTIAGO 


2 I 7 

I am  certain  that  there  are  more  Corinthian  columns  in  Santiago 
to-day  than  in  Athens. 

Some  of  the  residences  are  like  Italian  palaces,  and  homes, 
which  have  cost  $100,000  and  upwards,  are  many.  I doubt  if 
there  is  a capital  of  its  size  • in  the  world  that  spends  so  much 
money;  one  has  only  to  look  at  the  well-dressed  people  on  the 
streets,  and  at  the  fine  turnouts  which  pass  our  tram  as  we  ride 
through  the  Alameda,  to  see  that  Santiago  is  a very  rich  city. 
The  business  streets  have  as  fine  stores  as  have  any  of  the 
European  capitals.  The  costliest  of  diamonds  sparkle  in  the 
jewellers’  windows  and  the  finest  of  all  kinds  of  goods  are  in 
demand.  The  shop  windows  are  tastefully  dressed,  especially  in 
the  many  great  arcades,  roofed  with  glass,  which  are  cut  through 
a number  of  the  larger  business  blocks  from  one  side  to  the 
other. 

The  Plaza  des  Armes,  where  the  car  stops,  is  the  ganglionic 
centre  of  the  Chilean  capital.  About  it  are  the  chief  business 
streets;  on  one  corner  is  the  cathedral,  on  another  the  post- 
office,  and  all  around  are  portales  or  corridors  filled  with  booths 
and  walled  at  the  back  with  fine  shops.  The  plaza  itself  is  a 
beautiful  little  park  containing  several  fountains,  palm  trees,  and 
many  tropical  plants  and  flowers.  It  is  surrounded  by  a hex- 
agonal walk  or  promenade  sixty  feet  wide  made  of  tiles  which 
are  as  beautifully  laid  as  is  the  tiled  floor  of  a Washington  ves- 
tibule. 

Let  us  enter  the  portales  and  watch  the  people  buying  and 
selling.  We  are  in  one  of  the  oldest  sections  of  Santiago,  a sec- 
tion which  was  in  existence  more  than  two  centuries  before' 
the  city  of  Washington  had  its  birth.  The  portales  have  stores 
like  those  of  the  old  cities  of  Spain ; they  are  different  from  the 
modern  shops  on  the  other  side  of  the  Plaza;  they  are  merely 
caves  in  the  walls,  the  floors  being  covered  with  piles  of  goods  so 
arranged  that  it  is  easy  for  the  purchasers  to  handle  them.  Some 
of  the  merchants  stack  up  their  best  cloths  in  the  doorways  and 
upon  the  pavement  outside.  Scores  of  women  are  moving  through 
the  portales.  Many  are  shopping,  and  we  notice  that  the  desire 
for  a good  bargain  is  quite  as  keen  as  at  home.  Most  of  the 
women  wear  black  gowns  and  black  mantas.  The  younger  girls 
drape  their  mantas  coquettishly  around  their  heads  so  that  they 
form  a sort  of  a bonnet,  showing  only  the  face.  They  look  quaintly 


2 1 8 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

pretty  and  are  noted  for  their  beauty.  They  are  tall,  slender,  and 
well-formed.  They  are  not  as  dark  as  the  girls  of  Peru,  and 
they  are  more  stylish  and  appear  to  have  more  intelligence  than 
the  girls  farther  north. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  stores.  We  see  that  some  have  their 
goods  marked  and  that  among  the  lower-priced  figures  on  pieces 
of  cloth  are  $i,  $2,  and  $3  per  yard.  Across  the  way  is  a store 
where  silk  hats  are  labelled  $25  a piece,  and  next  door  ladies’ 
shoes  are  selling  for  $10  and  $15  a pair.  These  prices  however 
are  in  Chilean  money,  which  is  worth  just  about  one-third  as 
much  as  ours,  so  that  the  real  cost  of  the  goods  is  about  the 
same  as  in  the  United  States.  All  imported  articles  are  high: 
for  instance,  one  of  the  Santiago  ladies  told  me  that  she  pays  $30 
a pair  for  American  shoes:  she  added  that  her  imported  bonnets 
cost  her  $50  a piece.  At  my  hotel  I have  a fairly  good  room  for 
$8  per  day,  the  charge  including  two  meals.  It  is  the  same  in 
the  restaurants  and,  indeed,  everywhere.  About  the  only  things 
that  are  especially  cheap  are  the  street-car  fares  and  cab  rides. 
The  cab  fares  are  only  seven  cents  of  our  money  a trip,  and  the 
hour  rate  is  usually  not  more  than  thirty-five  cents. 

I wish  I could  take  the  reader  into  some  of  the  more  preten- 
tious houses  of  Santiago  and  show  him  how  the  rich  Chilenos 
live.  Every  one  here  is  now  talking  of  hard  times,  and  I am 
told  that  many  of  the  supposedly  wealthy  people  are  overloaded 
with  mortgages.  However  that  may  be,  they  spend  enormous 
sums  of  money  and  live  like  princes.  I have  been  in  Santiago 
houses  which  have  upwards  of  fifty  rooms,  and  which  are  fur- 
nished as  expensively  as  some  of  the  palaces  of  Europe.  Many 
of  them  have  their  billiard  rooms  and  ball  rooms.  They  contain 
fine  paintings,  statues,  and  elegant  furnishings.  The  curtains 
in  one  palace  on  the  Alameda  cost  $200,000;  another  house 
is  a reproduction  of  the  Alhambra  in  Spain,  and  a third,  sit- 
uated in  a garden  of  five  acres,  has  a series  of  beautiful  halls, 
ending  in  a Moorish  bath-room,  with  a marble  pool  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor.  These  great  houses  are  commonly  of  one  or  two 
stories,  the  rooms  running  around  patios  or  gardens.  They  have 
ceilings  frequently  fifteen  or  sixteen  feet  high,  and  are  furnished 
more  with  regard  to  striking  effect  than  to  comfort.  Much  of 
the  furniture  is  plated  with  gold  leaf,  and  the  general  style  of 
the  hangings  is  French. 


1219)  VEGETABLE-SELLER,  SANTIAGO,  CHILE 


THE  CITY  OF  SANTIAGO 


22 


There  are  no  fireplaces  in  the  Chilean  houses.  There  are  no 
stoves  or  chimneys  with  which  they  could  be  connected  if  so  de- 
sired. Though  Santiago  has  a temperate  climate,  it  is  sometimes 
as  cold  as  Atlanta,  Georgia,  in  winter,  and  I am  writing  in  my 
room  at  the  hotel  with  my  feet  in  a fur  bag  and  a poncho  over 
my  shoulders.  Chilean  gentlemen  keep  on  their  overcoats  and 
the  ladies  their  furs  in  the  parlours,  and  it  is  not  an  uncommon 
thing  for  men  to  wear  their  overcoats  above  their  dress  suits 
when  at  dinner. 

The  meals  of  a Chilean  family  of  the  wealthy  classes  are 
different  from  ours.  No  one  comes  down  stairs  for  his  first 
breakfast;  it  is  served  in  the  bed  room,  and  usually  eaten  in 
bed.  It  is  merely  coffee  and  rolls,  without  butter  or  jam.  The 
meal  is  called  (<  desayuno.  ” I pay  forty  cents  a day  extra  for 
this  meal  at  my  hotel.  Breakfast,  or  (<  almuerzo,  ® is  partaken  at 
eleven  or  twelve  o’clock.  It  consists  of  a soup,  some  fish  and 
meat,  with  perhaps  a pancake  at  the  close.  As  a rule,  wine  is 
taken  at  breakfast,  with  a small  cup  of  coffee  after  it.  At  seven 
or  eight  in  the  evening  comes  dinner.  This  is  much  like  the 
breakfast,  only  more  elaborate.  There  are  always  wines  on  the 
table,  and  there  are  many  courses  served  separately.  There  are 
soup,  fish,  entrees,  roasts,  game,  and  salads,  ending  with  a dessert. 
I have  never  dined  more  generously  than  in  Chile,  and  have 
never  visited  a country  where  the  hotels  were  so  uniformly  good. 

But  to  return  to  the  butterflies  of  Chile,— for  the  lives  of 
many  of  the  rich  people  here  are  almost  as  idle  as  that  of  the 
butterfly, — they  rise  at  about  eight  o’clock  or  later.  From  the 
time  they  get  up  until  breakfast  the  hours  are  spent  in  walking 
or  driving  and  to  some  extent  in  attending  to  business.  After 
breakfast  they  rest  and  between  three  and  six  p.  m.  they  are 
ready  to  receive  or  make  calls.  At  six  o’clock  every  person  of 
note  who  owns  a carriage  goes  to  the  Cousino  Park.  All  are 
dressed  in  their  best,  the  men  wearing  silk  hats,  frock  coats,  and 
well-cut  suits,  and  the  women  having  on  Paris-made  gowns  and 
bonnets.  In  the  park  they  parade  their  carriages  up  and  down 
the  principal  drives  and  stare  at  one  another.  After  about  thirty 
minutes,  by  a sort  of  common  consent,  they  all  make  for  the 
Alameda,  where  they  form  a procession  of  carriages  three  or  four 
abreast  and  drive  up  and  down  for  a distance  of  about  four 
blocks,  still  staring  at  one  another.  The  driving  is  superintended 


222  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

by  mounted  policemen  and  the  scene  is  imposing,  although  rather 
stilted  and  fantastic  to  the  eyes  of  a stranger.  The  vehicles  are 
of  all  kinds.  There  are  drags,  victorias,  landaus,  and  four-in- 
hands;  some  are  driven  by  their  owners  and  some  by  coachmen 
in  gorgeous  liveries.  The  parade  continues  for  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  during  which  time  no  one  speaks  to  another,  but  merely 
bows  to  his  friends.  After  the  parade  all  go  home  to  dinner, 
some  one  carriage  breaking  the  line  and  the  others  following 
suit  on  the  trot. 

After  dinner  the  nabobs  of  Santiago  go  to  the  opera.  The 
municipal  theatre  here  is  one  of  the  largest  opera  houses  on  the 
Continent.  It  is  subsidized  by  government,  and  has  an  annual 
season  of  Italian  opera,  the  companies  being  brought  from  Italy. 
The  season  lasts  for  eighty  nights  and  during  its  progress  nearly 
every  person  of  note  has  his  box,  which  costs  him  a sum  equal 
to  about  $400  of  our  money.  Each  box  will  hold  six  people. 
Usually  all  the  boxes  are  taken,  although  two  of  the  galleries  of 
the  large  hall  are  divided  up  into  boxes. 

At  the  Santiago  opera  both  sexes  always  appear  in  full  dress, 
the  ladies  usually  being  resplendent  with  diamonds.  The  people 
pay  but  little  attention  to  the  music,  devoting  most  of  their  time 
to  looking  at  one  another.  In  order  that  they  may  do  this  the  bet- 
ter the  lights  are  never  turned  down.  Ladies  take  their  hats  off 
when  they  enter  the  boxes  and  the  men  bare  their  heads  during 
the  acting,  but  as  soon  as  the  curtain  goes  down  every  man  puts 
on  his  hat.  Between  the  acts  both  ladies  and  gentlemen  go  out 
to  promenade  in  the  lobbies,  where  there  are  restaurants  at  which 
the  ladies  can  have  ices  and  the  gentlemen,  if  they  wish,  can 
have  other  kinds  of  refreshments.  All  varieties  of  liquors  are 
sold,  and  one  can  have  anything  from  a bottle  of  champagne  to 
a special  variety  of  cocktail,  which  was  introduced  into  Chile  by 
a former  United  States  secretary  of  legation.  It  is,  indeed,  the 
one  thing  American  that  now  holds  and  will  always  hold  its  own 
in  Chile.  During  the  intermissions  visiting  goes  on  among  friends 
in  the  boxes,  and  the  opera  is  thus  more  a social  function  than 
a musical  one. 

The  Chilenos  do  not  have  as  intimate  a social  intercourse  as 
we  have.  Women  are  by  no  means  so  forward,  and  I have  yet 
to  hear  of  women’s  clubs  in  Chile.  The  people  are  fond  of 
dancing  and  the  President  often  closes  one  of  his  large  recep- 


THE  CITY  OF  SANTIAGO 


223 


tions  with  dancing.  At  such  times  the  display  of  diamonds  is 
magnificent.  Quarts  of  precious  stones  are  dragged  out  of  the 
vaults,  and  their  brilliance  vies  with  that  of  the  electric  lights. 
At  a recent  reception  one  lady  wore  eight  diamond  stars  and 
another  a large  bouquet  of  diamonds.  There  were  chokers  of 
diamonds,  buckles  of  diamonds,  and  in  fact  almost  every  variety 
of  diamond  ornament  that  one  can  imagine.  No  one  wore  such 
common  things  as  roses,  although  one  or  two  ladies  had  bou- 
quets of  orchids  so  rare  that  in  New  York  they  would  have  cost 
as  much  as  the  jewels. 

Among  the  social  features  of  life  in  Santiago  are  the  horse 
races,  which  are  held  regularly  every  Sunday  afternoon  during 
the  season  under  the  auspices  of  the  Club  Hipico.  This  is  the 
event  of  the  week.  The  men  go  dressed  in  tall  hats,  black  frock 
coats,  light  pantaloons,  and  white  kid  gloves.  The  women  put 
on  their  handsomest  street  gowns  and  the  (<  four  hundred  w of 
the  upper  crust  call  upon  one  another  between  the  heats.  All 
bet  more  or  less,  and  at  times  the  scene  is  an  exciting  one. 


INTERIOR  OF  SANTIAGO  CATHEDRAL 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CHILE 

A Visit  to  the  Chilean  « White  House » — The  President  and  Congress  — 
How  Chile  is  Governed  — The  Influence  of  the  Church  and  its 

GREAT  WEALTH  — • ITS  VAST  ECCLESIASTICAL  PROPERTY  IN  SANTIAGO  AND 

its  rich  Nuns  and  Monks  — Education  in  Chile  and  the  American 
Schools. 

uring  my  stay  in  Santiago  I had  an  interview  with  the 

President  of  Chile.  His  Excellency  gave  me  an  ap- 

pointment and  it  was  with  our  American  Minister  that 
I chatted  with  him  concerning  matters  of  mutual  interest  to  our 
respective  countries.  The  audience  was  held  at  <(  the  Moneda,” 
or  Presidential  residence,  a three-story  building  so  vast  that  you 
could  put  the  White  House  into  one  corner  of  it.  Its  ground 
floor  is,  I judge,  as  large  as  that  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 
The  building  is  constructed  in  Spanish  style,  with  many  rooms 
built  about  hollow  squares,  filled  with  flowers  and  trees,  and  in 
some  of  which  fountains  play.  The  Moneda  contains  not  only 
the  private  apartments  and  offices  of  the  President,  but  also  the 

offices  of  several  of  his  Ministers.  It  is  one  of  the  busiest  places 

in  Santiago,  and  its  surroundings  are  quite  imposing.  The  Chilean 
officials  are  fond  of  pomp  and  display.  As  we  entered  the  Mo- 
neda we  passed  soldiers  with  drawn  swords  in  their  hands,  and 
just  outside  were  ranged  the  President’s  military  guard,  of  200 
cavalry,  ready  to  accompany  His  Excellency  on  a drive  he  was 
about  to  take  after  my  audience  was  over. 

We  went  through  long  halls  to  the  offices  of  the  Secretary  of 
State,  who  took  us  in  and  introduced  us  to  His  Excellency,  Presi- 
dent Errazuriz,  who  received  us  cordially  and  through  an  inter- 
preter talked  with  us  for  about  an  hour.  The  President  of  Chile 
is  a slender,  courtly  man  of  perhaps  forty  years  of  age.  He  has 
a dark,  handsome  face  and  a dignified  manner.  He  is  very  en- 
thusiastic about  the  prospective  development  of  Chile,  and  a large 
(224) 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CHILE 


part  of  our  conversation  was  about  the  proposed  Isthmian  Canals 
and  the  possibility  of  an  Inter-Continental  railroad.  He  had  many 
friendly  words  for 
Americans  and 
American  capital- 
ists, and  advo- 
cated closer  social 
and  financial  rela- 
tions between  the 
United  States  and 
Chile. 

During  this  in- 
terview and  others 
which  I have  had 
with  the  leading 
men  of  the  gov- 
ernment, I asked 
many  questions 
as  to  the  political 
condition  of  the 
country.  Though 
a Republic,  it  dif- 
fers in  many  re- 
spects from  that 
of  the  United 
States.  The  Chil- 
ean President,  for 
instance,  is  elected 
for  five  years  in- 
stead of  four,  as 
with  us,  and  is  not 
eligible  for  a sec- 
ond term.  The  Presidential  election  day  is  June  25,  of  the  fifth 
year  of  each  presidency,  and  Inauguration  Day  is  September  18, 
of  the  same  year.  The  18th  day  of  September  is  the  Chilean  day 
of  Independence,  corresponding  to  our  4th  of  July.  The  Presi- 
dent of  Chile  receives  a salary  of  $18,000,  and  has  in  addition  an 
allowance  of  $12,000  annually  for  expenses.  These  sums,  being  in 
Chilean  money,  are  equivalent  to  not  more  than  $11,000  in  Amer- 
ican gold.  The  President  has  the  veto  power,  as  our  President 


PRESIDENT  ERRAZURIZ  OF  CHILE 


226  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

has,  but  his  veto  can  be  over-ridden  by  a two-thirds’  majority  of 
the  Members  of  Congress  present  at  the  time  the  measure  is 
brought  back;  and  the  political  situation  is  such  that,  when  a 
Presidential  measure  fails,  it  is  usually  the  custom  for  the  Cab- 
inet to  resign,  so  that  Chile  has  a new  Ministry  on  an  average 
of  once  a month  or  so.  In  addition  to  the  Cabinet,  which  is 
made  up  of  ministers  much  on  the  same  lines  as  those  of  our 
own  Cabinet,  the  President  has  a Council  of  State,  consisting 
of  five  members  appointed  by  himself  and  six  chosen  by  Con- 
gress. 

The  Chilenos,  if  unmarried,  cannot  vote  until  they  are  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  though  married  men  can  vote  at  twenty-one. 
Members  of  the  House  of  Deputies,  which  corresponds  to  our 
House  of  Representatives,  must  have  an  income  of  $500  (£ 100 ) 
a year,  and  Senators  must  have  incomes  of  ^400,  or  $2,000  a 
year.  Congress  sits  in  regular  session  from  June  1 until  Sep- 
tember 1,  but  the  President  may  call  an  extra  session  when  he 
chooses.  Congress  is  housed  in  the  finest  building  in  Santiago. 
It  covers  a whole  square,  and  looks  not  unlike  some  of  our 
public  buildings  at  Washington,  save  that  it  is  built  of  brick 
covered  with  stucco  of  a terra-cotta  colour.  The  sessions  of 
Congress  are  often  stormy.  The  Chilenos  are  fond  of  politics, 
and  usually  one  hears  more  political  talk  in  a day  in  Santiago 
than  in  a week  in  Washington. 

There  are  frequent  ups  and  downs  in  political  life.  New 
cabinet  ministers  are  chosen  upon  slight  provocation,  while  other 
officials  are  also  frequently  changed.  The  country  is  divided  up 
into  provinces  presided  over  by  intendentes , and  the  provinces' 
are  divided  into  departments  ruled  by  governors.  A department 
consists  of  one  or  more  municipal  districts,  each  of  which  has  a 
council  elected  by  popular  vote. 

Most  of  the  officials  are  appointed  by  the  President,  and  the 
country  is  to  a large  extent  ruled  by  him  and  his  ring.  The 
masses  of  the  people  have  little  to  say  as  to  the  manner  of  gov- 
ernment, about  two  hundred  families  or  so  controlling  everything. 
There  are,  however,  two  great  political  parties,  the  Conservatives, 
and  the  Liberals.  The  Conservatives  are  the  more  compact,  but 
the  Liberals  are  more  numerous.  The  latter  are  the  progres- 
sive party,  advocating  popular  education,  the  elevation  of  the 
masses,  and  everything  modern.  The  Conservatives  are  more 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CHILE 


227 


than  their  name  implies,  and  they  include  among  them  the  cler- 
ical or  church  element,  which  in  Chile  has  enormous  influence. 

The  Chilenos  are  satisfied  with  Catholicism,  though  the  edu- 
cated Chilean  man  does  not  like  to  have  the  Church  meddle  with 
political  matters.  He  does  not  go  to  church  save  on  Sundays 
and  feast  days,  and,  like  many  men  outside  South  America,  leaves 
most  of  the  church  exercises  to  his  wife  and  daughters.  The 
women  of  Chile  are  the  strongest  upholders  of  Catholicism  and 
its  influence.  They 
are  very  devout. 

You  see  them  in 
the  churches  on 
week  days  and 
on  Sundays  kneel- 
ing on  the  stone 
floors,  saying  their 
prayers.  You  meet 
them  on  the  streets 
going  to  confes- 
sion or  mass,  each 
carrying  a prayer 
rug  in  one  hand 
and  a prayer  book 
in  the  other,  and 
if  you  enter  the 
churches,  you  may, 
perhaps,  see  a 
, pretty  devotee, 
who  will  look  at 
you  out  of  the  tail 
of  her  eye  as  she 
mumbles  her 
prayers,  with  a 
cross  old  duenna 
in  the  background. 

As  in  Peru  and 
Bolivia,  the  women 
of  Chile  wear  solid 

black  when  they  go  to  Church.  They  cover  their  heads  with 
black  mantas,  so  that  a church  congregation  makes  you  think  of 


ARCHBISHOP  OF  SANTIAGO 


2 28  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

a nunnery,  with  all  of  the  nuns  clad  in  black.  Indeed,  to  wear 
white  at  such  times  is  a sign  of  grief  and  shame,  rather  than  of 
purity  and  joy.  It  is  the  custom  for  women  who  have  done 
wrong  to  put  on  white  clothes  and  to  shroud  their  heads  in 
white  shawls  as  a sign  of  penitence  and  of  a resolution  to  be 
good  for  the  future. 

The  Catholic  Church  of  Chile  is  enormously  wealthy.  Its 
property  in  Santiago  alone  is  said  to  be  worth  more  than  $100,- 
000,000  in  gold.  It  owns  some  of  the  best  business  blocks  in  the 
city.  The  whole  of  one  side  of  the  Plaza,  which  is  the  centre  as 
well  as  the  most  valuable  of  Santiago  business  property,  is  taken 
up  by  the  palace  of  the  archbishop  and  the  cathedral,  and  there 
is  other  property  in  the  neighbourhood  which  belongs  to  the 
Church.  It  has  acres  of  stores,  thousands  of  rented  houses,  and 
vast  haciendas,  upon  which  wine  and  other  products  are  manu- 
factured and  offered  for  sale.  Nearly  all  is  controlled  by  the 
archbishop,  although  much  of  the  Church  property  is  held  by  its 
different  organizations. 

The  Carmelite  nuns  of  Santiago  are  the  richest  body  of  women 
in  South  America,  if  not  in  the  world.  They  have  whole  streets 
of  rented  houses  near  their  nunnery,  and  also  own  large  farms, 
which  bring  them  in  a steady  income.  These  nuns  never  allow 
their  faces  to  be  seen  by  men,  and  if  for  any  reason  men  must 
be  employed  in  the  nunnery,  for  the  work  of  repairs,  etc.,  the 
nuns  shroud  their  forms  and  heads  in  thick  black  cloth  for  the 
time  being.  Of  course  no  man  is  admitted  to  the  convent 
proper,  but  through  a friend,  who  has  influence  with  them,  I was 
shown  the  beautiful  chapel  which  they  have  established  for  the 
use  of  their  employees  and  outsiders.  In  obtaining  permission 
my  friend  and  I talked  with  the  nuns,  though  we  did^  not  see 
them.  Our  speaking-tube  was  a dumb-waiter  and  the  voice  which 
came  down  to  us  was  singularly  sweet;  as  I heard  its  tones,  of 
musical  Spanish,  it  seemed  to  me  a shame  that  it  should,  as  is 
the  rule  in  the  establishment,  be  confined  to  a whisper. 

The  Dominican  Friars  also  own  millions  of  dollars’  worth  of 
property  in  Santiago.  I walked  past  blocks  of  houses,  every  one 
of  which,  I was  told,  belongs  to  them  and  pays  them  rent  monthly. 
The  Dominicans  dress  in  black  hats  and  gowns,  with  soft  white 
flannel  undergowns;  they  "look  quite  imposing  as  they  file  along 
the  streets.  Their  Church  is  perhaps  the  finest  in  Santiago.  It 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  CHILE 


229 

is  cathedral-like  in  size  and  appearance,  and  its  altar  is  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  on  the  Western  Hemisphere. 

Santiago  is  a city  of  schools  as  well  as  of  churches.  The 
schools  are  of  different  kinds,  from  the  University  of  Santiago, 
which  has  more  than  1,000  students,  down  to  the  public  primary 
schools,  which  are  found  all  over  the  country,  and  are  attended 
by  more  than  114,000  youthful  Chilenos.  This  is,  however,  less 
than  one-fifth  of  the  children  of  school  age,  so  that  four  out  of 
every  five  remain  at  home.  The  National  University  has  branches 
of  law  and  medicine,  as  well  as  the  ordinary  collegiate  depart- 
ments. No  tuition  is  charged,  for  the  professors  are  paid  by  the 
State. 

Chile  is  proud  of  her  educational  system  and  is  doing  all  she 
can  to  extend  it.  She  spends  millions  of  dollars  upon  it  every 
year.  There  are  public  schools  now  in  all  the  towns  and  the 
larger  places  have  liccos , or  high  schools,  of  which  there  are 
twenty-five  in  the  country.  There  are  two  lycees  for  girls  in 
Santiago  maintained  by  the  government.  The  national  institute, 
or  high  school  of  Santiago,  has  more  than  1,000  pupils;  while 
the  private  schools  and  colleges  have  an  average  attendance  of 
18,000  pupils. 

There  are  two  American  schools  in  Santiago,  one  for  girls 
and  another  for  boys.  The  girls’  school  — I should  say  the  girls’ 
college,,  for  it  is  as  good  a college  as  one  will  find  almost  any- 
where— has  been  in  operation  for  years,  and  it  has  a great 
reputation  in  Chile.  It  is  under  the  direction  of  an  American, 
and  has  a corps  of  American  girls  as  teachers.  It  has  several 
hundred  students,  among  whom  are  the  daughters  of  many  of 
the  best  Chilean  families.  This  school  is  connected  with  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  although  religious  instruction  forms 
no  obligatory  part  of  its  tuition.  The  boys’  school  is  under  the 
control  of  the  American  Presbyterian  Church.  It  is  called  the 
Institute  Inglese,  and  it  proposes  to  give  Chilean  boys  an  aca- 
demic and  collegiate  education.  It  has  handsome  buildings  and 
grounds  and  is  fairly  well  attended. 

Chile  has  also  its  normal  and  military  schools.  It  has  an 
agricultural  college  and  an  experimental  farm.  It  has  a fish 
commission  and  a weather  bureau,  the  latter  furnishing  forecasts 
of  the  weather,  just  as  our  bureau  furnishes  at  Washington.  The 
telegraph  lines  are  owned  by  the  Government,  and  one  can  send 
S.  A.— 15 


230  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

a ten-word  message  to  any  part  of  the  country  for  about  seven 
cents  of  our  money.  There  are  now  in  use  about  9,000  miles  of 
wire,  and  all  the  large  cities  can  be  reached  by  telegraph. 

The  postal  service  is  good.  More  than  60,000,000  letters  and 
newspapers  are  sent  through  the  mails  every  year,  and  the  mails 
on  the  whole  are  safe.  Girls  are  employed  as  postal  clerks,  and 
when  I register  my  letters  for  the  United  States  it  is  a Chilean 
maiden  who  affixes  the  stamps  and  gives  me  the  registry  receipt. 
She  charges  me  a sum  equal  to  three  and  one-half  of  our  cents 
for  doing  so,  or  less  than  it  costs  one  to  send  letters  from  the 
United  States  to  Chile. 


ROUND-UP  OF  CATTLE 


CHAPTER  XXV 


FARMING  ON  A GRAND  SCALE 

A Land  where  a Thousand  Acres  are  only  a Garden-Patch  and  many 
Farms  are  worth  Millions  — Special  Features  of  life  on  the 
Haciendas  — Peons  weio  Work  for  Twenty  Cents  a Day  and  get 
Drunk  every  Week  — Their  extraordinary  Strength,  and  the  great 
Mortality  among  them  — A visit  to  an  Immense  Estate  Managed 
by  a Woman — The  Wheat  Lands  of  Chile — Its  Fine  Cattle  and 
Horses. 

he  Chilean  farmers  are  perhaps  the  richest  of  their  class 
in  the  world.  They  live  like  feudal  lords  on  their  great 
estates,  often  numbering  their  retainers  by  the  hundred, 
and  massing  their  cowboys  like  an  army  at  the  annual  round- 
ups. They  have  great  flocks  of  sheep,  vast  droves  of  cattle,  and 
the  finest  horses  on  the  west  coast  of  South  America.  They  raise 
every  year  more  than  28,000,000  bushels  of  wheat,  quantities  of 
excellent  wine,  and  export  all  kinds  of  fruits  and  vegetables  to 
the  desert  lands  farther  north. 

Agriculture  is,  in  fact,  the  chief  business  of  Chile.  Fully  one- 
half  the  people  are  engaged  in  it,  but  only  the  nabobs  are  the 
landowners.  In  the  whole  United  States,  with  its  seventy-five 
million  inhabitants,  there  are  only  31,000  persons  who  individu- 
ally own  1,000  acres  or  over.  Here  a thousand-acre  farm  is 
a garden-patch.  I meet  daily,  men  who  have  10,  20,  and  even 
30,000  acres  of  land,  and  I have  visited  several  estates  each  worth 
more  than  $1,000,000.  I have  a geographical  text-book  of  Chile, 
just  published,  which  gives  the  government  valuations  of  the 
farms  of  each  province.  There  are  hundreds  in  every  State 
assessed  at  more  than  $100,000,  and  in  all  Chile  there  are  scores 
valued  at  $1,000,000  and  upwards. 

I am  writing  this  chapter  at  the  little  railroad  town  of  San 
Rosendo,  about  1,200  miles  south  of  the  Peruvian  frontier,  and 
300  miles  south  of  Santiago,  in  the  great  central  valley  of  Chile. 
The  valley  is  from  20  to  100  miles  wide,  and  about  600  miles 

(231) 


232  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

long.  It  extends  from  above  Santiago  to  hundreds  of  miles  south 
of  it.  On  the  east  of  it  are  the  snowy  walls  of  the  Andes,  with 
here  and  there  the  cone  of  a dead  volcano  rising  above  the 
other  peaks,  and  on  the  west  the  lower  mountains  and  hills  of 
the  coast  range,  their  sides  covered  with  green.  Between  these 
almost  parallel  but  winding  walls  lies  some  of  the  best  soil  of 
South  America.  The  valley  is  cut  by  many  creeks  and  small 
rivers,  which,  fed  by  the  Andean  snows,  carry  with  them  to  the 
sea  loads  of  silt  so  rich  that  it  makes  fat  every  inch  of  soil  upon 
which  it  drops. 

In  some  streams,  such  as  the  Mapo,  the  amount  of  silt  is  so 
great  that  it  coats  the  lands,  by  the  aid  of  irrigation  canals,  to  the 
depth  of  an  inch  per  year.  Other  streams,  such  as  the  Biobio 
and  some  streams  of  southern  Chile,  are  almost  as  clear  as  crystal. 
The  whole  of  the  valley  north  of  this  point  is  irrigated,  and  the 
country  is  like  a vast  garden,  made  up  of  fields  divided  by  canals 
along  which  hedges  of  Lombardy  poplars  have  grown  up  to  the 
height  of  sixty  feet  and  more. 

Some  of  the  estates  are  walled  with  stone,  and  it  is  only  oc- 
casionally that  you  see  fences  of  wire  or  boards.  There  are  no 
barns  standing  out  on  the  landscape;  the  only  buildings  are  the 
great  low,  rambling  structures  of  the  owners  and  the  mean,  squalid 
houses  of  the  labourers.  The  latter  I shall  describe  more  fully 
farther  on.  Oxen  everywhere  take  the  place  of  horses  or  mules. 
Clumsy  carts  drawn  by  these  beasts,  with  yokes  tied  to  their 
horns,  are  the  farm  waggons,  and  the  ploughs  are  forced  through 
the  furrow  by  the  same  motive  power. 

The  estates  are  as  a rule  well  kept.  I passed  vast  vineyards, 
the  vines  of  which,  now  covered  with  the  red  leaves  of  winter, 
spotted  the  landscape  with  fields  of  blood.  The  vines  are  dwarfed 
as  they  are  in  France,  and  in  many  cases  are  trained  upon  wires. 
They  are  planted  in  rows  about  five  feet  apart,  and  oxen  are 
used  to  plough  them.  The  Chilean  wines,  both  white  and  red, 
are  excellent,  and  the  amount  exported  every  year  is  constantly 
increasing.  The  climate  of  Chile  is  similar  to  that  of  California. 
The  same  crops  and  fruits  are  raised  in  both  places  and  the 
conditions  of  successful  farming  are  alike,  save  that  in  California 
one  finds  most  of  the  farms  very  small. 

What  would  one  of  the  California  women  who  tells  you  that 
40  acres  are  more  than  enough  for  one  person  to  take  care  of, 


ARRIVAL  OF  VISITORS  AT  A FARM:  “EVERY  CHILD  HAS  HIS  PONY » 


(234) 


OWNER  AND  CHIEFS  OF  HACIENDO 


FARMING  ON  A GRAND  SCALE 


235 


think  if  she  were  asked  to  manage  a farm  worth  $1,000,000  and 
comprising  more  than  11,000  acres?  There  is  a woman  who 
owns  an  estate  of  this  size  near  Santiago.  She  directs  it  herself, 
and  this  notwithstanding  that  she  is  now  considerably  over  three 
score  and  ten.  She  keeps  her  own  books  and  at  the  same  time 
manages  all  the  details  connected  with  her  household  and  its 
numerous  inmates.  This  woman  is  one  of  the  remarkable  char- 
acters of  Chile.  Her  name  is  Senora  Emilia  Herrera  de  Toro. 
She  belongs  to  one  of  the  oldest  families  of  Chile,  and  the  estate 
has  been  in  her  family  for  hundreds  of  years.  It  lies  within  two 
hours  by  rail  of  Santiago,  and,  as  is  the  case  with  most  of  the 
wealthy  farmers  of  the  country,  the  family  live  upon  it  during 
the  summer  months  only,  spending  the  winter  in  their  home  at 
the  capital.  It  was  in  company  with  our  American  Minister  and 
his  wife  that  I visited  Madame  de  Toro  and  thereby  had  one  of 
the  most  pleasant  and  interesting  experiences  of  my  stay  in 
Chile. 

Leaving  Santiago,  on  the  train  we  rode  under  the  snow  walls 
of  the  Andes,  through  hacienda  after  hacienda,  by  vast  vineyards 
of  blood-red  vines,  by  walled  fields  filled  with  herds  of  cattle  and 
sheep,  until  we  came  to  the  station  of  the  <(  Aguila  ” estate.  Here 
we  were  met  by  a spanking  team  of  bays  and  driven  for  a mile 
or  so  over  the  estate  before  we  came  to  the  home.  This  con- 
sisted of  many  long,  low,  one-story  buildings,  with  roofs  of  red 
tiles  and  wide  porches  floored  with  brick,  running  about  patios 
and  gardens.  A grove  of  trees,  at  least  100  feet  high,  looked 
down  upon  it,  and  the  long  leaves  of  a great  palm  rustled  a wel- 
come as  we  stepped  upon  the  porch.  There  were,  I judge,  100 
large  rooms  in  the  house,  and  all  on  the  ground  floor.  The  fur- 
nishings were  more  with  regard  to  comfort  than  to  the  show 
which  one  sees  in  all  the  Chilean  city  homes.  We  were  made  to 
feel  that  we  were  in  " Liberty  Hall,”  and  free  to  go  and  come  as 
we  pleased.  There  were  about  thirty  children  and  grandchildren 
of  Madame  de  Toro  visiting  her,  as  well  as  several  other  guests. 
We  were  duly  introduced,  and  later  in  the  day  drove  over  the 
great  farm  in  quite  royal  style  with  Senor  Santiago  de  Toro,  who. 
under  his  mother,  is  chief  manager  of  the  estate. 

Our  carriage  was  a three-seated  drag,  which  once  belonged  to 
King  Louis  Philippe,  the  mate  to  which  is  now  the  property  of 
the  English  royal  family  and  is  kept  in  the  Windsor  stables. 


236  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Senor  de  Toro  bought  the  vehicle  in  Paris  after  the  deposition 
of  Louis  Philippe,  and  it  has  been  so  carefully  kept  that  it  looks 
as  well  to-day  as  when  a king  was  its  owner.  We  had  six  horses, 
managed  by  three  postillions  and  outriders  in  livery,  and  thus 
drove  for  mile  after  mile  through  wide  avenues  of  Lombardy 
poplars,  by  the  two  lakes  which  supply  the  family  with  fish, 
frightening  the  ducks  and  swans  which  were  there  floating,  on  to 
the  rose  garden,  which  contained  more  than  a hundred  varieties 
of  roses,  past  meadows  where  great  flocks  of  sheep  were  grazing, 
and  by  many  irrigated  fields  being  made  ready  for  next  year’s 
crops.  Here  was  a forest  of  eucalyptus  trees  planted  for  their 
lumber,  there  an  orange  grove,  the  trees  still  bearing  their  yellow 
fruit,  and  farther  on  a vineyard.  Most  of  the  fields  were  sur- 
rounded by  well-made  stone  walls,  and  every  part  of  the  estate 
seemed  carefully  and  economically  managed.  I noticed  in  one 
place  a Chicago  windmill,  and  Senor  de  Toro  told  me  that  he 
used  American  ploughs  and  other  American  machinery. 

The  estate  is  to  a large  extent  a dairy  farm.  It  has  about 
2,000  cattle,  and  300  milch  cows,  from  which  come  something  like 
$6,000  worth  of  milk  and  $8,000  worth  of  butter  annually.  Upon 
it  are  also  200  horses,  although  all  the  farm  work  is  done  by 
oxen,  which  are  the  only  draught  and  farm  animals  of  Chile.  The 
horses  are  kept  chiefly  for  breeding,  and  for  the  use  of  the  family 
and  guests.  It  is  necessary  to  have  a large  number  of  horses, 
for  parties  of  fifteen  or  twenty  often  want  to  go  horseback  riding 
at  the  same  time,  and  the  Aguila  estate  is  managed  more  for  the 
comfort  of  the  family  than  for  profit,  although  it  is,  for  all  that, 
a very  profitable  farm. 

Madame  Emilia  is  fond  of  giving  presents.  She  has  one  man 
busy  all  the  year  round  making  baskets  to  be  used  in  sending 
gifts  to  her  friends,  or  filled  with  fruit  to  be  given  to  guests 
when  they  take  their  leave.  She  raises  for  sale  500,000  oranges 
a year,  but  50,000  are  always  left  on  the  trees  for  home  use.  All 
of  the  mutton  eaten  on  the  estate  is  home-raised,  and  the  800 
sheep  reared  on  the  farm  are  chiefly  for  the  use  of  the  owner  and 
her  friends.  She  also  raises  great  quantities  of  onions,  squashes, 
and  other  vegetables  to  give  away,  and  sends  them  to  the  San- 
tiago hospitals  by  the  cart-load.  I saw  piles  of  such  vegetables 
stacked  up  for  this  purpose  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  There 
was  enough,  it  seemed  to  me,  to  feed  a good-sized  American 


FARMING  ON  A GRAND  SCALE  237 

town  for  a year.  Mountains  of  pumpkins,  great  piles  of  squashes, 
bags  of  walnuts,  and  cart-loads  of  corn  all  awaited  shipment  as 
gifts.  The  owner  delights  in  the  old  way  of  doing  things,  and 
the  table  is  chiefly  supplied  from  the  estate,  the  ice-cream  being 
made  by  snow  brought  from  the  mountains  in  bags  on  the  backs 
of  the  peons.  As  it  takes  several  days  to  make  the  journey,  the 
ice  could  be  more  cheaply  procured  by  train  from  Santiago;  but 
she  prefers  the  old  way  rather  than  the  new,  and  the  estate  is 
kept  as  much  as  possible  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  her  girlhood. 
Each  of  her  many  grandchildren  has  his  own  pony,  and  I saw 
little  boys  and  girls  between  the  ages  of  four  and  fourteen  gal- 
loping about  the  place  and  holding  their  seats  like  grown  men 
and  women. 

The  meals  served  to  guests  on  such  an  estate  are  of  course 
excellent.  You  get  up  when  you  feel  like  it  and  have  your 
coffee  or  tea  and  toast  in'  your  room.  At  eleven  or  twelve 
o’clock  all  the  household  meet  at  breakfast.  This  is  what  would 
be  called  a course  dinner,  beginning  with  soup  and  ending  with 
coffee.  Then  at  seven  o’clock  there  is  dinner,  with  perhaps  a 
lunch  or  tea  at  four  o’clock,  and  supper  late  in  the  evening.  The 
better  class  of  Chilean  families  keep  very  - late  hours,  and  there 
are  usually  some  at  Aguila  who  stay  up  chatting  till  long  after 
midnight. 

During  my  stay  at  Santiago  I paid  a visit  to  the  famous  es- 
tate of  the  late  Madame  Cousino,  known  as  Macul.  Her  name 
will  doubtless  be  familiar  to  many  of  my  readers,  since  she  has 
been  much  written  of  in  the  newspapers  as  the  richest  woman  in 
the  world,  the  Chilean  woman  who  possesses  millions  of  acres  of 
land,  mines  of  copper,  silver  and  coal,  towns  and  factories,  and 
an  income  of  millions  a year.  Madame  Cousino  was  very  rich, 
but  there  are  to-day  women  in  Chile  who  are  richer  than  she 
ever  was.  She  was  however  a lavish  spender,  and  her  estate, 
which  is  now  being  settled  up,  will  not  aggregate,  I am  told, 
$10,000,000.  She  was,  nevertheless,  a remarkable  woman  and  fond 
of  all  things  modern. 

Macul  contains  about  5,000  acres  and  cost  when  Senor  Cousino 
bought  it  $600,000.  I venture  to  say  that  more  than  that  amount 
has  been  spent  upon  it,  and  it  is  now  valued  at  over  $1,000. 00c. 
It  has  100  of  the  finest  of  blood  horses,  the  choicest  of  sheep, 
and  200  of  the  best  of  cattle,  bred  from  imported  Durham  stock. 


238  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

It  has  a vineyard  which  contains  several  hundred  thousand 
vines,  and  produces  millions  of  bottles  of  wine  annually.  Amer- 
ican ploughs  and  other  machinery  are  used  upon  it,  and  it  takes 
a regiment  of  peons  to  do  the  work.  The  estate  is  kept  like  a 
prize  farm,  and  lines  of  tall  poplars  mark  out  the  courses  of  the 
irrigation  ditches.  The  water-rents  for  Macul  cost  about  $5,000 
a year.  The  ground  is  very  rich  and  all  things  grow  luxuriantly. 
Along  the  poplar  hedges  I saw  blackberry  bushes  30  feet  high. 
They  were  wild  blackberries  and  had  grown  up  between  the 
poplars. 

I doubt  whether  there  is  a finer  park  anywhere  than  on  the 
farm  of  Macul.  It  has  long  avenues  of  trees  100  feet  in  height, 
the  branches  of  which  meet  overhead  and  form  arbours  reaching 
almost  as  high  as  you  can  see.  At  places  other  avenues  meet 
these,  and  one  stands  and  looks  down  these  long  arbours  in  four 
different  directions.  There  are  groves  of  great  trees  planted  so 
regularly  that  every  way  one  looks  the  eye  runs  along  the  straight 
line  of  one  of  the  rows.  There  are  lagoons  which  wind  in  and 
out  among  mossy  rocks  and  beds  of  flowers.  Swans  and  other 
water-fowl  swim  upon  the  lagoons,  and  over  their  dark  waters 
orange  trees,  palms,  and  weeping  willows  hang.  Here  you  walk 
upon  what  seems  a natural  bridge,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a 
rustic  table  under  a canopy  of  bark,  and  there  a waterfall 
splashes  over  the  rocks,  and  as  you  look  upward  you  see  bronze 
statues  of  Neptune  and  his  wife  which  the  silvery  drops  are 
spraying  before  they  flow  onward  to  their  falls.  Here  is  a wind- 
ing cave  and  there  a lemon  grove  laden  with  yellow  fruit.  There 
are  hedges  of  roses  and  other  flowers,  great  greenhouses  filled 
with  orchids,  and  in  short  a variety  of  beautiful  things.  It  takes 
30  men  to  care  for  the  gardens  alone,  and  180  men  are  employed 
in  the  vineyards. 

One  of  these  big  farms  always  has  its  manager  or  major- 
domo.  It  has  its  sub-overseers  and  its  army  of  rotos,  or  common 
farm  hands.  The  rotos  are  of  the  cross  formed  by  the  union  of 
the  Indians  and  Spaniards.  They  are  the  labouring  class  of  the 
country  and  correspond  to  the  peons  of  Peru.  They  are,  how- 
ever, of  a different  character  from  the  Peruvian  labourers,  although 
fully  as  drunken  and  as  shiftless  as  to  money-making  and  money- 
saving. They  are  brave  to  excess  and  will  not  tolerate  abuse 
or  insult.  You  can  kick  a Peruvian  peon  and  he  will  smile;  the 


FARMING  ON  A GRAND  SCALE 


239 


Bolivian  servant,  it  is  said,  is  afraid  that  his  master  is  angry  with 
him  if  he  does  not  thrash  him  once  or  twice  a month,  but  the 
Chileno  would  be  likely  to  resent  such  treatment  with  a stab  or 
a blow.  These  men  all  carry  knives,  and  on  provocation  they  do 
not  hesitate  to  use  them.  They  care  little  for  life,  and  I am  told 
many  of  them  would  kill  a man  for  a dollar.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  are  usually  fond  of  the  men  they  work  for,  and  it  is  hard  to 
get  them  away  from  the  estates  where  they  were  born. 

Most  of  the  rotos  are  in  debt  to  their  masters.  They  live  on 
the  estate,  each  having  for  himself  a hut  and  about  two  acres 
of  ground;  they  are  paid  from  40  to  60  cents  a day  for  their 
work.  This  is  in  Chilean  silver,  so  that  the  wages  are  really 
onlv  from  14  to  20  cents  a day.  They  receive  food  in  addition 
to  their  wages,  but  this  is  only  for  themselves,  not  for  their 
families.  Their  first  meal  is  usually  a couple  of  handfuls  of 
toasted  wheat  flour,  which  they  mix  with  water  to  form  a mush, 
or  bake  in  a cake.  At  noon  they  have  a bowl  of  hot  beans,  and 
for  supper,  or  dinner  as  they  call  it  here,  they  get  a second  bowl 
of  beans  with  perhaps  some  toasted  meal  added.  The  last  two 
meals  they  eat  in  the  fields,  with  what  extras  their  wives  bring 
them  from  home.  They  sit  down  on  the  ground  to  eat,  and  their 
only  eating  utensil  is  an  iron  spoon,  or  what  is  perhaps  more  com- 
mon— a mussel  shell.  It  is  on  such  foods  that  the  rotos  work 
from  sunrise  to  sunset ; and  on  that  they  carry  enormous  burdens 
and  do  the  heaviest  of  work. 

The  homes  of  the  rotos  are  little  better  than  our  pig-pens. 
They  are  usually  just  high  enough  to  get  into  and  not  over  fif- 
teen feet  square.  Their  walls  are  of  wattled  twigs,  sun-dried 
bricks,  or,  in  the  south,  of  boards;  the  roofs  are  usually  of  thatch; 
the  earth  is  the  floor  and  in  many  cases  the  bed  of  the  family. 
A box  or  two  and  a table  form  the  furniture.  A house  seldom 
has  more  than  one  room,  and  the  people  herd  together,  several 
families  often  occupying  the  same  apartment. 

The  chief  end  of  the  rotos’  life  seems  to  be  to  get  drunk. 
He  works  only  for  this,  and  nine-tenths  of  his  kind  are  in  a 
state  of  intoxication  at  least  once  a week.  He  usually  stays 
drunk  and  will  not  work  as  long  as  his  money  lasts.  For  this 
reason  Monday  is  called  the  “rotos’  holy  day”  for  he  is  so  drunk 
on  Sunday  that  he  has  to  take  Monday  to  “taper  off.”  The 
men,  women,  and  children  all  drink  together.  None  of  them 


240  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

seems  to  have  any  desire  to  better  his  condition  and  all  continue 
in  this  state  till  they  die.  The  liquor  used  is  the  vilest  of  alco- 
hol, made  of  potatoes  and  rotten  vegetables.  It  would,  as  one  of 
their  employers  says,  kill  an  ordinary  man  at  a thousand  yards. 
They  gulp  it  down  in  great  quantities  and  drink  it,  not  for  the 
pleasure  of  drinking,  but  to  get  drunk. 

The  result  of  their  excesses,  of  their  poor  food,  and  of  the 
insanitary  condition  of  their  houses  is  that  the  mortality  among 
them  is  very  great.  They  breed  like  Australian  rabbits,  and 
their  babies  die  like  flies.  Only  the  strongest  children  live ; the 
peon  child  who  has  constitution  enough  to  grow  up  in  Chile  has 
constitution  enough  for  anything.  It  is,  perhaps,  for  this  reason 
that  the  peons  as  a class  are  as  strong  as  any  people  in  the 
world.  I have  seen  rotos  carrying  bags  of  nitrate,  each  weigh- 
ing 300  pounds  all  day,  and  tossing  them  about  like  bags  of 
feathers.  Four  of  them  will  lift  a piano  and  trot  off  with  it, 
and  at  the  mines  peons  may  be  seen  carrying  bags  of  ore,  each 
weighing  150  pounds,  up  the  notched  sticks  that  serve  as  ladders, 
all  day  long. 

Comparatively  few  rotos  ever  go  through  the  marriage  cere- 
mony, but  nearly  all  have  wives,  and  they  are,  as  a rule,  true 
to  them.  They  are  kind  to  their  old  people  and  always  ready  to 
help  one  another  when  in  trouble.  They  have  the  humour  of  the 
Irish  and  the  superstition  of  the  Chinese,  and  are  as  great  fatal- 
ists as  the  Turks.  They  are  as  treacherous  in  their  enmity  as 
are  the  Spaniards  from  whom  they  are  descended,  and  will  stab 
you  in  the  back  if  they  have  the  chance.  It  was  thought  that 
the  system  of  common  schools  inaugurated  by  the  Chilean  gov- 
ernment might  attract  the  peon.  It  has  not  done  so,  however, 
to  any  extent,  and  to-day  of  the  300,000  people  in  Chile  less 
than  one  in  four  can  read  and  write. 


THE  NIAGARA  OF  CHILE 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


LIFE  ON  THE  CHILEAN  FRONTIER 

How  the  Southern  Part  of  the  Country  is  being  opened  up  to  Settle- 
ment— Government  Auctions  where  Land  is  Sold  in  Lots  of  Thou- 
sands of  Acres  — A Look,  at  the  frontier  City  of  Temuco  and 
something  about  Concepcion,  the  Metropolis  of  the  South  — The 
Chances  for  Investment  — Big  farms  at  low  prices — -Valuable 
Mines  — A Journey  into  the  Coal  Mines  under  the  Pacific  Ocean 
on  an  Electric  Trolley. 

quthern  Chile  is  seldom  visited  by  travellers,  and  yet  it 
is  one  of  the  most  interesting  parts  of  the  country. 
Northern  Chile  is  a desert.  For  one  thousand  miles 
south  of  the  Peruvian  boundary  there  are  not  enough  trees  to 
furnish  switches  for  the  public  schools.  For  hundreds  of  miles 
south  of  Santiago  the  only  trees  to  be  seen  are  those  which  have 
been  planted  along  the  irrigating  ditches,  and  it  is  only  when 
one  reaches  the  neighbourhood  of  Concepcion  that  one  sees  other 
trees  of  any  size.  After  this  the  country  changes  and  you  come 
into  a land  of  woods.  Within  the  past  few  days  I have  been 
travelling  through  forests.  I have  been  in  the  frontier  regions 
of  Chile  where  large  farms  have  been  cut  out  of  the  woods,  and 
where  the  stump-filled  fields  remind  one  of  the  newly  settled 
regions  of  our  wooded  Northwest. 

The  greater  part  of  southern  Chile  is  covered  with  natural 
forest.  It  contains  some  of  the  best  soil  in  the  country  and  has 
so  much  rain  that  the  farms  do  not  require  irrigation.  Until 
within  recent  years  it  has  been  a wilderness.  Now  the  govern- 
ment is  opening  it  up  for  settlement.  Railroads  are  being  ex- 
tended down  into  it,  and  new  towns  and  villages  are  springing 

up.  The  frontier  towns  remind  one  of  the  new  settlements  in 

the  United  States.  Take  Temuco,  for  instance,  where  I spent 
some  days;  it  is  twelve  years  old  and  has  a population  of 

10,000  people.  It  covers  about  as  much  space  as  an  American 

city  of  the  same  size ; its  muddy  streets  are,  however,  wide,  and 

(243) 


244  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  one  and  two-story  houses  which  line  them  are  wooden.  They 
have  ridge  roofs  and  many  of  them  are  mere  shanties.  Although 
the  climate  is  as  cold  as  that  of  Washington,  not  a house  has  a 
chimney;  the  people  generally  believe  fires  to  be  unhealthy  and, 
like  the  Chinese,  rely  upon  their  clothes  to  keep  them  warm. 
The  streets  cross  one  another  at  right  angles,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  town  there  is  a park  or  plaza  of  about  an  acre,  where  the 
military  band  plays  and  where  the  people  walk  about  on  Sunday 
afternoons  and  chat  with  each  other. 

Temuco  has  a club  where  you  find  the  latest  English,  Ger- 
man, and  Chilean  papers.  It  has  three  hotels,  two  French,  and 
one  German,  all  of  which  are  better  than  the  hotels  in  American 
towns  of  the  same  size.  It  has  saloons,  where  raw  alcohol  is 
sold  to  the  peons  and  Indians,  but  the  saloons  are  fewer  than  in 
an  American  town  of  similar  character.  It  has  several  Catholic 
churches,  a Protestant  mission,  and  a school  established  by  the 
missionaries  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

The  street  scenes  of  Temuco  are  interesting.  There  are  many 
curious  costumes.  There  are  dark-faced  Indians,  Germans,  and 
well-dressed  Chilenos.  Dark-faced  men  with  ponchos  over  their 
shoulders  and  the  air  of  brigands  bring  in  great  carts  drawn  by 
oxen.  Each  man  carries  a goad,  fifteen  feet  long,  and  directs 
the  oxen  by  striking  them  on  this  side  and  that.  Now  and  then 
one  sees  teams  of  six  or  eight  of  these  beasts. 

Oxen  in  fact  form  an  important  element  of  Chilean  transpor- 
tation and  farming.  It  is  on  ox-carts  that  the  thousands  of 
bushels  of  wheat  grown  in  the  vicinity  are  brought  to  market. 
Oxen  everywhere  do  the  ploughing,  the  hauling  of  lumber,  the 
draying,  and  everything  that  heavy  horses  or  mules  do  with  us. 
The  method  of  yoking  the  oxen  is  the  same  here  as  it  is  all 
over  Chile.  The  yoke  rests  on  the  neck  just  back  of  the  horns. 
It  is  tied  by  straps  to  the  horns,  and  all  of  the  pushing  or  pull- 
ing of  the  cart  or  plough  must  be  done  with  the  head.  The 
yoke  is  a heavy  piece  of  wood,  so  fastened  that  one  ox  cannot 
move  his  head  without  the  other,  so  that  it  is  impossible  for 
him  to  swing  it  from  side  to  side.  The  tongue  of  the  frontier 
cart  is  not  unlike  a telegraph  pole : it  is  a part  of  the  cart  itself, 
so  that  the  oxen  have  the  weight  of  the  cart  resting  on  their 
horns.  This  is  cruel  in  the  extreme,  and  the  oxen  move  painfully 
along,  with  protruding  eyes,  as  they  drag  their  heavy  loads. 


LIFE  ON  THE  CHILEAN  FRONTIER 


245 


In  company  with  Don  Augustine  Baeza,  the  government  in- 
spector of  colonization,  I made  a trip  into  the  wilderness  over 
thirty  kilometers  of  new  railroad,  which  is  almost  finished,  but 
not  yet  ready  for  traffic.  The  road  is  being  built  by  the  State 
to  open  up  new  lands;  it  is  part  of  a system  which  will  extend 
from  one  end  of  agricultural  Chile  to  the  other.  It  is  well  built 
with  6o-pound  rails  and  the  English  four  feet,  eight  inch  gauge. 
The  rolling  stock  will  be  American.  The  road  will  cost,  exclud- 
ing the  bridges,  about  $12,000  gold  per  mile.  It  was  in  a Bald- 
win engine  and  on  American  hand-cars  that  we  made  a part 
of  our  journey  over  the  line.  The  steel  bridges,  of  which  there 
are  two,  each  costing  over  $100,000  were  brought  from  France. 
Why  America  did  not  get  the  contract  I do  not  know,  a large 
number  of  the  best  of  the  Chilean  railroad  bridges  having  been 
imported  from  the  United  States. 

It  was  interesting  to  notice  how  the  Chilean  government 
opens  up  and  disposes  of  its  public  lands.  It  builds  its  own  rail- 
roads and  regulates  the  settlements  upon  them.  It  lays  out  the 
lots  about  the  stations,  selling  them  at  low  prices  to  actual  set- 
tlers. The  railroad-town  boomer  has  no  chance  along  the  gov- 
ernment lines  of  Chile.  Other  government  lands  are  sold  in 
large  tracts  at  auction,  the  auctions  being  held  in  different  parts 
of  the  country  once  or  twice  a year.  Just  now  money  is  scarce 
and  valuable  lands  sell  for  low  prices.  The  land  is  usually  sold 
in  blocks  of  fifteen  hundred  acres,  but  one  purchaser  can  buy  at 
each  sale  up  to  five  thousand  acres,  and  if  he  wants  more  he 
can,  of  course,  purchase  an  additional  amount  through  a third 
party  or  under  another  name.  At  such  sales  a quarter  of  a mil- 
lion acres  are  often  sold  at  one  time,  bringing  from  $1.75  to  $33 
gold  per  acre,  according  to  location  and  the  character  of  the 
soil.  The  buyers  must  pay  one-third  cash,  and  the  balance, 
without  interest,  in  ten  equal  instalments  extending  over  ten 
years.  Many  of  the  rich  men  of  Chile  have  become  so  by  buy- 
ing these  lands,  as  they  rapidly  increase  in  value.  The  only 
provision  required  by  the  government  is  that  the  purchaser  shall 
fence  in  his  property. 

Chile  has  been  anxious  to  secure  immigration  and  in  the  past 
has  offered  extraordinary  inducements  to  colonists.  Until  lately 
each  male  immigrant  was  given  one  hundred  acres  of  land,  a 
team  of  oxen,  a cart,  a barrel  of  nails  and  three  hundred  boards 
S.  A.— 16 


246  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  build  him  a house.  He  was  also  loaned  money  for  his  passage 
from  Europe  to  Chile,  and  was  paid  fifteen  dollars  a month  for 
the  first  year  of  his  residence.  He  received  besides  fifty  acres 
additional  land  for  every  son  over  ten  years  of  age.  Of  this 
amount,  however,  the  land  alone  was  free.  He  was  expected 
to  pay  back  all  advances,  the  whole  amounting  to  about  $600, 
within  eight  years  after  his  arrival.  These  terms  have  now,  how- 
ever, been  discontinued.  While  they  were  in  force,  numbers  of 
Germans  came  into  Chile,  and  to-day  parts  of  the  New  South 
Chile  are  largely  German  settlements.  The  cities  of  Valdivia  and 
Puerto  Montt,  situated  on  harbours  on  the  south  coast,  are  to  a 
large  extent  German  cities,  and  most  of  the  property  there  be- 
longs to  Germans.  They  own  great  wheat  farms  about  Angol 
and  Traiguen,  large  towns  in  the  region  to  the  south,  while 
they  have  established  tanneries  and  breweries  in  a number  of 
places.  The  trees  of  southern  Chile  furnish  excellent  tan  bark, 
and  a great  deal  of  sole  leather  is  made  at  Valdivia  and  shipped 
thence  via  Hamburg  to  Russia. 

There  is  much  good  land  in  Chile,  and  some  of  it  can  be 
bought  very  cheaply,  but  I would  not  advise  any  but  those  pre- 
pared to  farm  in  a large  way  to  come  here.  Labour  is  so  cheap 
that  the  ordinary  American  workman  cannot  compete  with  the 
Chilean  roto.  The  only  openings  for  our  people  are  as  pro- 
prietors and  managers.  The  man  who  can  bring  with  him  capi- 
tal of  $10,000  and  upwards  — better  $50,000  or  $100,000  — can 
make  money  in  farming  or  in  land  speculation. 

Owing  to  the  extravagance  of  the  Chilenos,  the  fall  of  silver, 
and  the  possibility  of  complications  with  the  Argentine  Republic, 
the  times  are  at  present  hard.  Many  of  the  large  estate  owners 
are  in  straitened  circumstances,  and  some  of  the  best  of  the 
big  estates  are  being  sacrificed.  I am  told  that  farms  that  have 
paid  as  high  as  20  per  cent  on  a valuation  of  $300,000  can  now 
be  bought  for  $100,000  or  less.  Many  such  farms  are  irrigated. 
It  takes  much  money  to  operate  them,  but  their  profits  are  pro- 
portionately large.  The  farmers  pay  from  10  to  12  per  cent  for 
what  money  they  borrow  from  the  banks,  and  the  complications 
of  the  times  have  so  involved  them  that  they  have  been  com- 
pelled to  sell. 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  many  chances  for  good  invest- 
ments in  Chile.  There  are  opportunities  for  electric  franchises 


LIFE  ON  THE  CHILEAN  FRONTIER 


247 


in  the  larger  cities.  Several  of  the  best  copper  mines  are  idle 
for  lack  of  money,  and  there  is  nitrate  territory,  still  undevel- 
oped, near  the  fields,  into  which  English  companies  have  put 
more  than  $100,000,000,  and  out  of  which  they  have  taken  for- 
tunes. 

One  of  the  most  promising  of  the  money-making  fields  in  the 
southwest  of  South  America  is  in  the  coal  mines  of  Chile.  There 
is  a great  bed  of  coal  running  along  the  coast  southward,  begin- 
ning at  about  300  miles  below  Valparaiso.  No  one  knows  the 
extent  of  the  deposit,  or  how  far  it  reaches  down  under  the 
water.  The  mines  now  being  operated  are  near  Concepcion  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Arauco  Bay.  Millions  of  dollars’  worth  of 
coal  have  been  taken  out  of  them,  and  they  are  now  producing 
many  hundred  thousand  tons  of  coal  every  year. 

During  my  stay  at  Concepcion  I visited  some  of  these  mines. 
They  are  different  from  any  mines  we  have  in  the  United  States 
and  are  in  some  respects  far  more  difficult  to  work.  The  seam 
of  coal,  which  at  its  best  is  about  five  feet  thick,  begins  at  the 
shore  and  runs  down  under  the  waters  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
The  rock  above  the  vein  is  slate  and  • shale,  and  so  compact  that 
the  water  does  not  drip  through.  The  tunnels  are  so  clean  that 
one  could  walk  through  them  in  a dress  suit  without  getting 
soiled.  The  latest  machinery  is  employed,  and  in  visiting  them 
I had  several  experiences  which  it  is  hard  to  realize  could  take 
place  in  Chile.  Think,  for  instance,  of  riding  on  an  electric 
trolley  coal  train  through  a tunnel  over  a mile  long  under  the 
Pacific  Ocean  at  a speed  of  twenty  miles  an  hour!  Imagine 
mines  lighted  by  electricity,  forming  a catacomb  of  corridors  and 
chambers  under  the  ocean!  Realize  that  just  above  great  steam- 
ships are  floating,  and  that  the  coal  taken  out  of  this  bed  of  the 
Pacfiic  is  being  shovelled  into  them.  To  the  picture  add  sooty 
miners,  half-naked,  blasting  out  the  coal,  loading  the  cars,  and 
follow  the  train  carrying  twenty-seven  tons  of  black  diamonds  to 
the  shaft,  where  a mighty  steam  engine  lifts  four  of  them  at  a 
time  to  the  surface,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  what  is  going  on 
in  the  Lota  coal  mines. 

The  mines  are  now  producing  1,000  tons  of  coal  per  day  and 
750  miners  are  employed  in  them.  They  pay  a profit  running 
high  into  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  a year  and  are 
as  carefully  managed  as  any  of  the  great  coal  properties  of  our 


248  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

own  country.  I asked  as  to  the  pay  of  the  miners  and  was  told 
that  they  receive  from  ninety  cents  to  one  dollar  Chilean,  or 
from  thirty-one  to  thirty-five  cents  of  our,  money.  I wonder 
what  our  Pennsylvania  miners  would  think  of  such  wages.  The 
Chilean  miners,  however,  have  their  houses  rent  free  and  coal  is 
furnished  them  at  cost  price. 

The  Lota  coal  mines  were  the  foundation  of  the  Cousino  for- 
tune, of  which  much  has  been  read  in  the  stories  published  of 
Dona  Cousino,  the  so-called  richest  woman  in  the  world.  It  was 
her  husband,  Matias  Cousino,  who  opened  the  mines.  He  worked 
them  to  such  an  extent  that  a town  of  14,000  people  grew  up 
about  them.  He  established  great  smelting  works  near  by,  to 
which  in  his  own  steamers  he  brought  ore  from  his  copper  mines 
in  the  north.  This  smelter  is  still  in  operation  near  Lota.  It  is 
just  below  the  beautiful  park  and  palace  which  Madame  Cousino 
has  made  at  a cost  of  many  thousand  dollars.  The  park  is  full 
of  wonders  of  landscape  gardening  and  picturesque  effects  of  land 
and  water.  It  has  winding  walks,  grottoes,  and  cascades.  Statues 
of  Indians  and  mythological  characters  are  scattered  here  and 
there  through  it.  There  are  deer  and  other  animals  in  its  woods, 
birds  of  many  kinds  in  the  great  aviary,  and  altogether  such  a 
variety  of  curiosities  of  nature,  art,  and  animal  life  as  one  sel- 
dom sees  outside  of  a public  museum  or  a zoological  garden. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


THE  ARAUCANIAN  INDIANS 

Odd  Features  of  Life  among  the  Richest  and  Bravest  of  the  South 
American  Indians  — A Visit  to  their  Reservations  in  South  Chile 
— Pretty  Indian  Maidens  — How  they  are  Courted  and  Married  — 
Curious  Customs  at  Birth  and  Death  — The  Araucanian  Religion 
— An  Araucanian  Woman  who  claims  to  be  130  Years  Old. 

want  to  introduce  to  the  reader  the  richest,  proudest, 
and  bravest  of  the  Indians  of  the  South  American  Con- 
tinent— Indians  who  once  owned  the  greater  part  of 
Chile,  and  who,  for  three  generations,  with  wooden  lances  and 
bows  and  arrows,  waged  a successful  war  with  the  Spanish  in- 
vaders. They  killed  the  founder  of  Santiago,  Pedro  Valdivia, 
who  came  south  to  conquer  them.  They  destroyed  Spanish  forts, 
besieged  Spanish  cities,  and  receded  southward  only  as  they  were 
forced  foot  by  foot  to  give  way.  The  war  lasted  over  three  gen- 
erations. As  it  went  on  the  Indians  learned  more  of  the  tactics 
of  the  Spaniards  and  their  organized  troops  of  cavalry,  and  they 
attacked  scattering  bands  of  the  enemy  wherever  they  found  them. 
They  carried  off  arms,  cattle,  and  horses;  while  they  waged  war 
to  such  an  extent  that  their  subjection  cost  Spain  more  men 
than  did  her  conquests  of  Mexico  and  Peru.  And  this  though 
the  Araucanians  were  in  number  comparatively  few;  there  never 
were  more  than  100,000  of  them.  At  the  time  of  Valdivia  they 
were  divided  into  separate  tribes,  which  were  combined  only  by 
the  common  cause  of  resistance  to  the  Spaniards.  When  finally 
conquered  they  refused  to  become  the  slaves  and  hirelings  of 
their  conquerors,  as  did  the  Indians  farther  north,  and  to-day 
they  maintain  their  identity,  owning  their  own  lands,  and  looking 
with  scorn  upon  the  descendants  of  the  whites  who  have  robbed 
them  of  their  country. 

The  Indians  I refer  to  are  the  Araucanians,  the  famous  native 
fighters  of  south  Chile.  I am  writing  this  chapter  in  Temuco,  on 

(249) 


250  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  edge  of  one  of  their  reservations,  and  I have  just  returned 
from  a hand-car  trip  over  a railroad  which  the  Chilean  govern- 
ment is  building  through  their  country  to  open  the  lands  adjoin- 
ing it  to  settlement.  The  Araucanians  have  long  since  given  up 
their  fight  against  the  whites,  and  the  whites  are  doing  what 
they  can  to  civilize  them.  They  have  given  them  lands,  which 
they  are  not  allowed  to  sell,  and  have  established  for  them  In- 
dian schools  modelled  after  those  of  the  United  States.  The 
progress,  however,  is  not  great,  for  the  demon  of  alcohol  is 
slowly  but  surely  wiping  out  what  is  left  of  the  race.  There  are, 
it  is  estimated,  only  50,000  now  remaining,  most  of  whom  are 
scattered  over  the  hills  and  valleys  of  southern  Chile. 

There  are  many  Araucanians  to  be  seen  in  Temuco.  They 
come  in  to  trade,  some  on  foot  and  some  on  horseback,  both  men 
and  women  riding  astride ; many  are  in  rude  ox  carts,  riding  on 
the  loads  of  wheat,  barley,  and  other  produce  which  they  bring 
in  to  sell.  I saw  one  to-day  seated  in  a cart  on  two  fat  hogs, 
which  he  was  bringing  to  market;  his  pretty  daughter  rode  be- 
hind on  a pony.  She  wore  heavy  flat  earrings  of  silver,  each  as 
big  as  the  palm  of  my  hand,  and  upon  her  breast  was  a silver 
plate  of  diamond  shape,  hanging  by  a silver  chain,  which  made  a 
musical  jingle  as  she  trotted  by.  A group  of  Araucanian  girls, 
whom  I saw  soon  after,  were  barefooted  and  bareheaded.  Their 
dresses  were  bright-coloured  blankets,  so  pinned  at  the  shoulders 
that  the  arms  were  left  bare.  The  dresses  were  belted  in  at  the 
waists  with  buckles  of  silver;  they  fell  to  the  middle  of  the  calf, 
leaving  the  lower  part  of  the  legs  bare,  except  where  bands  of 
silver  beads  sewed  to  red  cloth  stood  out  above  the  ankles  against 
the  rosy  pink  skin.  Several  of  the  girls  wore  a second  blanket 
about  the  shoulders,  fastened  there  by  long  silver  pins. 

The  Araucanian  men  have  a somewhat  similar  dress,  save  that 
the  second  blanket  is  worn  as  a poncho,  thrown  over  the  upper 
part  of  the  body,  with  the  head  stuck  through  a slit  in  the 
centre.  Few  of  the  men  wear  hats,  but  all  tie  red  handkerchiefs 
or  bands  about  their  heads  down  over  the  forehead,  leaving  the 
crown  of  the  head  bare. 

The  Araucanians  are  of  the  same  race  as  the  North  American 
Indians.  They  are  somewhat  lighter  in  colour  than  most  of  our 
native  tribes,  but  have  the  same  high  cheek  bones  and  straight 
black  hair.  The  men  have  little  or  no  beards.  They  wear  their 


THE  ARAUCANIAN  INDIANS  251 

hair  cut  off  as  far  down  as  the  neck  and  coming  down  over  the 
ears.  The  women  wear  their  hair  long;  it  is  usually  divided  into 
two  braids,  each  wrapped  with  a strip  of  red  cloth,  often  deco- 
rated with  little  silver  beads;  the  ends  are  sometimes  tied  to- 
gether with  strings  of  silver  balls.  They  wind  the  hair  up  on 
the  top  of  the  head  and  let  the  ends  of  the  braids  stick  out  like 
horns  above  their  faces.  Both  sexes  are  partial  to  bright  colours, 
and  the  women  are  especially  fond  of  jewellery.  Their  earrings 
are  always  large,  some  being  worn  in  the  shape  of  silver  plates 
as  big  as  playing  cards,  with  ear-hooks  attached.  They  wear 
necklaces  of  silver  beads,  and  as  many  silver  breast  ornaments  as 
they  can  afford.  The  Araucanian  men  are  better  looking  than 
the  North  American  Indians,  and  the  women  when  young  are 
plump  and  pretty.  Many  of  their  girls  have  rosy  cheeks,  well- 
rounded  forms,  beautiful  eyes  and  teeth,  and  ripe  red  lips.  They 
look  clean;  their  feet  are  small,  and  their  ankles  are  well  turned. 

The  Araucanians  have  curious  customs.  Each  of  the  richer 
braves  has  two  or  more  wives  who  live  with  him  in  the  same 
hut,  the  children  of  the  several  wives  being  mixed  up  indiscrim- 
inately, as  long  as  peace  prevails  in  the  family.  This  condition, 
however,  does  not  always  exist.  At  least,  I judge  so,  for  in  one 
of  the  Indian  huts  which  I visited  I found  two  fires  going,  over 
each  of  which  one  of  the  husband’s  two  wives  was  cooking, 
while  about  each  woman  was  gathered  her  own  brood  of  children. 

The  hut,  which  was  of  boards,  with  a low  thatched  roof,  was 
a typical  Araucanian  home.  It  had  no  door,  but  the  whole  front 
was  open  to  the  east  and  so  arranged  that  when  necessary  it 
could  be  closed  with  skins.  The  roof  was  ridge-shaped,  afford- 
ing room  for  an  attic,  which  was  separated  from  the  ground 
room  by  a ceiling  of  poles,  turned  jet  black  by  the  smoke. 
From  these  poles  ears  of  corn,  strings  of  onions,  pieces  of  dried 
meat,  and  bags  of  other  eatables  hung.  The  floor,  which  was 
mother  earth,  was  littered  with  farming  utensils,  clothing,  saddles, 
harness,  and  a variety  of  other  things,  the  whole  giving  the  room 
the  appearance  of  a junk  shop. 

On  opposite  sides  of  the  hut  two  closet-like  rooms  had  been 
partitioned  off  by  poles  and  skins.  In  each  was  a low  platform, 
bedded  with  straw  and  covered  with  sheep  skins.  These  were 
the  private  quarters  of  the  different  wives,  each  of  whom  sleeps 
with  her  children  apart  from  the  other.  In  the  same  hut  lived 


252  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  great-grandmother-in-law  of  the  two  wives,  a woman  who 
is,  I am  told,  130  years  old.  She  is  the  oldest  person  in  Chile, 
and  if  her  family  traditions  be  correct,  she  is  perhaps  the  oldest 
woman  in  the  world.  She  is  a slender  little  body,  not  over  four 
feet  high  and  so  withered  up  with  age  that  she  weighs  not  more 
than  fifty  pounds.  Accompanying  me  at  the  time  of  my  visit 
was  Herr  Otto  Kehren,  a German  connected  with  Don  Augustine 
Baeza,  the  inspector-general  of  colonization  of  Chile,  who  was 
also  of  our  party.  Herr  Kehren  is  over  six  feet  tall  and  weighs 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  I had  him  stand  up  beside  the 
little  great-grandmother-in-law  and  made  a photograph  of  the 
two:  the  contrast  was  that  of  giant  and  pigmy,  of  old  age  and 
youth,  of  life  and  death,  of  withered  skin  and  rosy  flesh.  As  I 
looked  at  the  old  woman  the  fact  that  conditions  have  little  to  do 
with  longevity  seemed  apparent.  Small  at  her  birth  and  probably 
weak,  she  had  lived,  although  half-fed  and  poorly  clad,  for  more 
than  a hundred  years.  When  I saw  her  she  was  dressed  in  a 
ragged  navy  blue  blanket,  fastened  by  a pin  of  silver  over  her 
skinny  breastbone.  Her  lean,  shrivelled  arms  were  bare  to  the 
shoulder,  and  her  wrinkled  legs  were  naked  to  the  middle  of  the 
calf.  She  was  both  deaf  and  blind.  Her  eyes  were  grown  over 
with  skin  so  that  they  looked  like  two  little  red  buttons  of  flesh, 
and  her  face  was  as  wrinkled  as  a withered  apple.  She  was  led 
out  of  the  hut  by  one  of  her  great-grandchildren,  a plump  Indian 
maiden  of  eighteen,  and  the  contrast  between  eighteen  and  one 
hundred  and  thirty  was  striking  in  the  extreme.  I was  told  that 
the  old  woman  still  had  the  use  of  her  mental  faculties  and  that 
she  did  much  of  the  spinning  for  the  family.  Her  great-grand- 
daughters-in-law  seemed  very  proud  of  her  and  were  thankful 
for  the  money  we  gave  her. 

In  this  hut,  as  I have  said,  there  were  two  Araucanian  women 
cooking.  Their  only  cooking  utensils  were  iron  pots,  which  they 
rested  upon  stones  over  fires  built  in  holes  in  the  ground  inside 
the  hut;  the  smoke  was  so  dense  it  seemed  to  me  that  I could 
feel  it  closing  behind  me  as  I pushed  my  way  through  it.  The 
women  were  roasting  potatoes  and  green  corn  on  the  coals,  upon 
which  savoury  stews  were  steaming.  Much  of  the  food  is  eaten 
raw  and  this  is  true  of  both  meal  and  meat.  Raw  mutton  and 
beef  cut  into  small  pieces  are  among  the  chief  dishes  of  an 
Araucanian  feast.  Red  pepper  is  used  as  an  appetizer  and  raw 


(254) 


AN  AURAUCANIAN  WOMAN 


THE  ARAUCANIAN  INDIANS 


255 


alcohol  is  drunk  between  the  courses.  They  have  a way  of 
taking  a living  sheep  and  peppering  and  salting  its  lungs  while 
it  is  dying.  This  is  done  by  hanging  the  sheep  up  by  its  fore- 
legs and  stuffing  its  windpipe  with  salt  and  red  pepper.  While 
the  sheep  is  gasping,  its  jugular  vein  is  skilfully  cut  and  ab- 
stracted and  the  stream  of  blood  turned  into  the  windpipe.  This 
carries  the  salt  and  pepper  down  to  the  lungs  and  the  sheep  at 
once  swells  and  dies.  The  lungs  are  now  taken  out  of  the  still 
quivering  animal;  they  are  cut  into  slices  and  eaten  warm  with 
the  lifeblood  which  has  thus  been  seasoned  to  taste.  At  all 
feasts  the  men  are  served  first,  the  women  acting  as  waiters  and 
taking  what  is  left. 

The  Araucanians  have  curious  customs  in  regard  to  love  and 
marriage.  A father  always  expects  to  get  a certain  price  for  his 
daughter,  in  cattle,  sheep,  horses,  or  other  presents,  and  the  deal 
is  made  beforehand,  the  groom  usually  paying  as  little  as  he  can. 
The  price  having  finally  been  agreed  upon,  the  young  man  comes 
with  his  friends  and  kidnaps  the  bride.  A dark  night  is  chosen, 
but  the  time  is  usually  known  to  the  girl,  who  has  her  female 
friends  with  her  for  the  occasion.  It  is  a matter  of  wedding 
etiquette  that  she  should  fight  against  being  married,  and  all  the 
women  of  the  family  and  her  female  friends  join  with  her  in 
repelling  the  groom.  The  friends  of  the  groom  are  on  hand  to 
help  him,  and  there  is  generally  a lively  skirmish,  which  ends  in 
the  bride  being  dragged  from  her  home  by  her  future  husband. 
He  swings  her  up  on  his  horse  and  goes  off  on  a gallop,  making  for 
the  nearest  woods.  The  women  pursue,  but  the  groom  soon  dis- 
tances them.  Having  reached  the  forest,  he  takes  his  lady  love 
with  him  into  its  recesses  and  there  spends  the  honeymoon. 
This  lasts  but  a few  days,  when  the  two  return  to  the  house  of 
the  groom  and  are  considered  to  be  married.  Then  the  husband 
takes  the  presents,  as  agreed,  to  the  father  of  his  wife,  and  the 
ceremony  is  over.  If,  later  on,  the  husband  desires  a divorce,  he 
may,  under  certain  conditions,  send  back  his  wife  to  her  father; 
if  she  proves  unfaithful  to  him  he  has  the  right  to  kill  her.  If 
she  deserts  him  and  goes  back  home  of  her  own  accord,  nothing 
is  said;  but  if  she  marries  again,  the  second  husband  must  reim- 
burse the  first  for  the  price  he  paid  her  father  for  her. 

Araucanian  papooses  are  treated  in  much  the  same  way  as 
our  Indian  babies.  The  little  one  is  tied  to  a carrying  board  as 


256  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

soon  as  it  is  born  and  kept  fastened  there  until  it  is  old  enough 
to  walk.  The  babies  are  bright  eyed  and  healthy  looking  and 
can  stand  treatment  that  would  kill  most  white  infants.  Take 
the  practice  at  birth,  for  example:  when  an  Araucanian  mother 
is  expecting  her  baby  she  goes  alone  into  the  woods  and  camps 
there  on  the  bank  of  a stream  until  the  child  is  born.  After  the 
birth  has  taken  place,  she  bathes  the  little  one  in  the  brook,  then 
dries  it,  wraps  it  up  in  a skin  or  cloth  and  fastens  it  to  the 
board.  She  slings  it  on  her  back  by  a strap  or  rope  tied  about 
her  forehead,  and  thus  carries  it  home.  For  a year  or  so  there- 
after she  carries  the  baby  about  with  her,  taking  it  to  the  fields 
when  she  goes  out  to  work. 

The  Araucanians  have  singular  ideas  about  death,  one  of 
which  is  that  their  ancestors  watch  over  them,  shining  as  stars 
in  the  milky  way.  They  do  not  believe  in  the  Christian  religion 
as  do  the  descendants  of  the  Incas,  and  the  Catholic  missionaries 
have  worked  among  them  with  but  little  success.  They  are  like 
our  northern  Indians  in  their  belief  in  a great  father  — a great 
good  spirit  and  an  evil  spirit.  These  two,  they  think,  are  always 
fighting  one  another,  and  the  evil  spirit  is  supposed  to  follow  a 
man  even  into  the  grave.  For  this  reason  they  stand  about  the 
grave  at  burials  with  their  lances  and  make  noises  to  frighten 
the  evil  spirits  away.  When  one  of  their  number  dies  he  is  sel- 
dom buried  at  once.  His  family,  fearing  that  he  will  be  lone- 
some on  his  way  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds,  try  to  accustom 
him  first  to  solitude.  They  hang  the  corpse  from  the  rafters  or 
poles  inside  the  hut  and  for  the  first  day  or  two  speak  to  him 
frequently.  They  talk  to  him  at  their  meals  and  treat  him  as 
though  he  were  alive.  From  day  to  day,  however,  they  pay  less 
and  less  attention,  until  they  think  the  dead  has  grown  accus- 
tomed to  being  alone,  when  they  bury  him.  Sometimes,  instead 
of  being  hung  up,  the  corpse  is  laid  in  the  little  attic  on  the  poles 
which  form  the  ceiling  of  the  living-room.  How  decomposition 
is  prevented,  if  it  is  prevented,  I do  not  know;  but  I should 
think  that  the  dense  smoke,  which  is  incessant  in  the  huts  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  would  serve  to  cure  anything,  dead  or 
alive. 

In  nearly  all  of  these  Araucanian  communities  there  is  a 
prophetess,  or  woman  (<  medicine  man,"  who  is  supposed  to  be 
able  to  ward  off  evil  spirits,  or  tell  wrhy  they  will  not  let  the 


THE  ARAUCANIAN  INDIANS 


257 


troubled  one  alone.  The  evil  spirit  is  at  the  root  of  all  Arau- 
canian  woes.  It  brings  bad  crops  and  is  the  cause  of  all  dis- 
eases. In  times  of  sickness  the  prophetess  is  called  in,  when  she 
practices  incantations  and  other  antics  over  the  patient.  If  he 
recover  it  is,  of  course,  solely  due  to  her  skill;  but  if  not,  it 
must  be  the  evil  spirit  who  has  been  led  to  afflict  the  sick  by 
some  one  of  his  enemies.  In  case  of  failure,  the  prophetess  pro- 
claims that  the  patient  has  been  bewitched,  and  points  out  the 
man  or  woman  who  bewitched  him,  and  if  death  ensue  the  rela- 
tives of  the  deceased  are  liable  to  kill  the  person  so  charged  with 
being  a witch. 

The  Araucanians  are  good  farmers,  not  a few  of  them  using 
some  American  machinery,  such  as  a plough  or  other  implement. 
They  are  rather  stockmen  than  grain -raisers.  I found  but  few  of 
the  braves  labouring  in  the  fields,  for  the  squaws  do  most  of  the 
farm  work,  except  on  the  farms  of  the  larger  land-owners,  where 
the  “ rotos,  ” or  Chilean  peasants  are  the  hired  hands.  The  roto, 
like  most  hybrids,  is  in  many  respects  a worse  native  than  either 
of  the  peoples  from  whom  he  is  descended,  often  having  the 
vices  of  both  and  the  virtues  of  neither.  The  pure  Indian  is 
cleaner  than  the  peon ; he  is  more  honest  and  self-respecting. 
Until  recently  no  Indian  could  be  got  to  work  for  a white  man, 
and  to-day  the  Araucanian  feels  himself  the  equal  of  any  person 
on  earth.  He  has  always  been  a man  of  some  civilization;  he 
was  a tiller  of  the  soil  when  the  Spaniards  came  to  this  conti- 
nent, and  he  has  always  been  a land-owner.  The  clothes  he 
wears  are  woven  by  his  wives,  and  his  ponchos  all  have  the 
bright  colours  and  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  blankets  made  by 
the  Navajo  Indians. 

The  Araucanian  is  a shrewd  trader,  but  as  a rule  he  does  not 
care  for  money.  I have  often  tried  to  buy  the  ponchos  of  In- 
dians I met,  offering  what  I thought  ought  to  have  been  con- 
sidered good  prices,  but  have  invariably  failed.  It  was  the  same 
with  the  jewellery  they  wore,  which  I tried  to  purchase  of  the 
girls.  The  only  places  to  get  such  things  are  in  the  pawn  shops 
of  the  frontier  towns.  The  Indians  are  fond  of  liquor,  and  when 
in  want  of  money  will  sell  or  pawn  almost  anything  they  possess 
for  the  means  of  becoming  intoxicated.  This  brings  them  to 
the  pawnbrokers,  and  the  result  is  that  you  can  pick  up  their 
curious  jewellery  and  sometimes  their  beautiful  blankets  quite 


258  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

cheaply.  I once  saw  for  sale  in  Temuco  a pair  of  solid  silver 
stirrups,  each  weighing  a pound.  The  price  was  thirty-five  Chil- 
ean dollars,  or  about  twelve  dollars  of  our  money;  and  I bought 
an  almost  new  hand-woven  poncho,  as  big  as  a bedquilt,  for  ten 
dollars  in  silver,  or  three  dollars  and  a-half  in  American  gold. 

It  is  on  account  of  his  craving  for  alcohol  that  the  government 
has  forbidden  the  Indian  to  sell  his  lands.  Until  this  law  was 
enacted,  large  tracts  were  continually  passing  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  Araucanians  into  those  of  unscrupulous  speculators,  and  now 
only  a comparatively  small  part  of  the  Araucanian  territory  re- 
mains to  the  Indians.  South  Chile  is  rapidly  settling,  and  the 
desire  for  good  land  is  such  that  the  absorption  of  the  Arau- 
canian Reservations  by  the  whites  is  only  a question  of  time. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 

A Trip  through  Smyth’s  Channel  into  the  Strait  of  Magellan  — Sailing 
amidst  the  Clouds  among  Icebergs  and  Andean  Snows  — A look  at 
Cape  Froward,  the  lowest  Continental  Point  in  the  World — The 
Savages  of  Patagonia  — The  naked  Alacalufs,  who  live  in  Canoes 
Lassooing  an  Iceberg  — A description  of  the  Strait  and  its  mag- 
nificent Scenery. 


am  at  the  tail  end  of  our  hemisphere;  at  the  lowest  con- 
tinental point  in  the  world;  three  thousand  miles  nearer 
the  south  pole  than  the  foot  of  the  Siamese  peninsula 
at  the  end  of  Asia;  more  than  a thousand  miles  farther  south 
than  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  with  a distance  equal  to  the 
diameter  of  the  earth  between  myself  and  the  northern  parts  of 
the  United  States.  I am  on  the  steamer  Itauri  in  the  Strait 
of  Magellan.  Just  opposite  me,  the  black  rocky  walls  of  Cape 
Froward,  the  southernmost  point  of  South  America,  rise  almost 
straight  upward  to  a height  of  1,200  feet,  and  behind  them, 
glistening  in  the  moonlight,  are  the  glacial  snows  of  Mount  Vic- 
toria, 2,000  feet  higher.  I am  at  the  bottom  of  the  great  Andean 
chain,  the  elevations  of  which  are  the  end  of  the  mighty  ridge 
which  ties  the  continent  together.  Loaded  with  copper,  silver, 
and  gold,  they  stretch  from  here  on  their  sinuous  way  toward 
the  north  pole.  They  span  the  equator,  they  drop  their  heads  at 
the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  and  end  only  at  the  Arctic  Ocean,  be- 
yond the  gold  mines  of  Alaska  and  the  Klondike.  The  hills  to 
the  southward  are  a part  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  above  Cape  Horn, 
and  that  great  white  frozen  pyramidal  cone  is  Mount  Sarmiento, 
which  pierces  the  southern  sky  almost  1,000  feet  above  the  alti- 
tude of  Mount  Washington.  Behind  and  in  front  of  my  ship, 
here  as  black  as  ink  under  the  shadows  of  the  hills,  there  turned 
to  silver  by  the  full  moon’s  rays,  flows  the  Strait  of  Magellan, 

(259) 


260  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

that  salt-water  river,  in  which,  moved  by  the  tides,  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  Oceans  rush  together  and  clasp  their  hands  to  bear 
up  the  commerce  of  the  world. 

The  Strait  of  Magellan  makes  the  passage  between  the  oceans 
shorter  by  almost  1,000  miles.  Cape  Horn,  part  of  an  island 
almost  200  miles  south  of  it,  is  surrounded  by  waters,  always 
tossed  about  by  terrible  storms,  and  ships  must  go  a long  dis- 
tance south  to  round  it.  To-night  the  strait  is  as  smooth  as  a 
mill  pond,  and  the  Itauri  is  steaming  through  it  as  quietly  as 
though  it  were  the  swan  boat  of  Lohengrin.  We  are  now  almost 
midway  between  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific.  We  entered  the 
strait  by  what  is  known  as  Smyth’s  channel,  opposite  Desolation 
Island,  about  30  miles  from  Cape  Pilar,  which  marks  its  western 
end.  We  could  see  the  two  massive  rocks  of  the  Cape  as  we 
turned  to  the  eastward.  They  rise  almost  precipitously  to  a 
height  of  1,500  feet,  and  when  the  air  is  clear  they  are  in  sight 
for  many  miles. 

Beginning  at  Cape  Pilar,  the  Strait  of  Magellan  runs  south- 
east to  Cape  Froward.  It  then  turns  to  the  northeast,  widening 
here  and  there  as  it  goes,  until  it  ends  at  the  Atlantic  between 
Cape  Virgens  and  Cape  Holy  Ghost.  The  channel  is  365  miles 
long,  with  a width  varying  from  2 to  24  miles.  At  times  our 
vessel  is  within  a stone’s  throw  of  the  shore,  and  again,  in  the 
misty  air,  where  the  channel  widens,  the  waters  seem  almost  to 
bound  the  horizon.  This  is  so  only  in  the  eastern  parts  of  the 
channel,  on  both  sides  of  which  the  lands  of  Patagonia  and  Tierra 
del  Fuego  are  low.  In  the  west  there  is  little  else  than  moun- 
tains, some  of  which  are  snow-capped  and  many  are  loaded  with 
vast  glaciers  slowly  sliding  down  them  to  the  sea. 

Below  the  Strait  of  Magellan  there  is  a vast  archipelago,  the 
smaller  islands  of  which  are  mountain  peaks  rising  out  of  the 
waves,  and  the  largest,  the  Island  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  which  is 
larger  than  many  of  our  American  states;  it  has  mountains  and 
valleys,  vast  forests,  and  extensive  plains  upon  which  have  lately 
been  established  some  of  the  largest  sheep  farms  in  the  world. 
North  of  the  Strait,  to  the  east,  lies  the  end  of  southern  Pata- 
gonia, and  on  the  west  is  a continuation  of  the  archipelago  of 
Tierra  del  Fuego,  the  smaller  islands  of  which,  with  almost  all 
of  Tierra  del  Fuego  proper,  belong  to  Chile.  The  republic  has 
an  area  of  land  here  which  she  calls  the  territory  of  the  Magel- 


AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 


26 


Ians;  it  consists  of  75,000  square  miles,  half  again  as  large  as  the 
State  of  New  York,  and  almost  twice  the  area  of  Ohio. 

Some  of  the  Chilean  naval  vessels  are  here  engaged  in  sur- 
veying the  channels  and  harbours,  but  the  greater  part  of  the 
region  is  almost  as  unknown  as  it  was  in  1520,  when  Ferdinand 
Magellan,  the  Spanish  navigator,  discovered  the  Strait.  The  land 
and  the  people  have  been  misrepresented  by  travellers  from  Dar- 
win down  to  within  recent  years  and  it  is  only  lately  that  oppor- 
tunities have  been  afforded  for  careful  investigation.  Even  now 
the  savages  I see  here  are  less  known  than  many  tribes  of  Central 
Africa,  and  only  the  coasts  of  a few  of  the  islands  have  been  ex- 
plored. The  sheep  farmer,  the  gold  digger,  and  the  government 
vessels,  are,  however,  making  headway,  and  within  a few  years 
this  great  archipelago  will  be  a terra  incognito  no  longer. 

The  generally  accepted  belief  regarding  southern  Patagonia 
and  Tierra  del  Fuego  is  that  they  are  something  like  Greenland 
or  the  islands  of  the  arctic  seas.  The  geographies  represent  them 
as  wastes  of  ice  and  snow,  desolate,  forbidding,  and  terrible  to 
the  traveller.  For  the  past  four  days  I have  been  winding  in 
and  out  of  the  channels  along  the  western  coast  of  lower  Pata- 
gonia. Our  sail  has  been  through  a series  of  scenic  panoramas 
that  can  hardly  be  surpassed.  We  entered  the  archipelago  by 
what  is  known  as  Smyth’s  channel  route,  about  400  miles  above 
the  Strait  of  Magellan,  and  coasted  slowly  along  through  one 
channel  after  another  until  we  came  into  the  Strait  proper,  at 
Desolation  Island.  Darwin  compared  the  glaciers  of  Mount  Sar- 
miento  in  Tierro  del  Fuego  to  a hundred  frozen  Niagaras.  The 
waters  along  the  lower  end  of  western  Patagonia  present  combi- 
nations which  make  one  think  of  a hundred  Lake  Comos,  Lake 
Genevas,  and  Lake  Lucernes  tied  together  in  one  ever-widening, 
ever-changing  river.  Here  are  the  beauties  of  the  Thousand 
Islands  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  added  to  by  snow-capped  mountains 
kissed  by  the  sun,  and  mighty  glaciers  sliding  down  into  masses 
of  dark  green  vegetation.  Here  are  giant  rocks,  cathedral-shaped, 
covered  with  moss,  rising  straight  upward  from  the  water  for  a 
thousand  feet;  mountains,  their  heads  lost  in  the  clouds,  dropping 
almost  precipitously  into  the  sea;  narrow  gorges,  in  which  the 
steamer  must  tack  this  way  and  that  as  it  winds  its  way  through 
islands  of  green  and  islands  of  rock  resting  in  lakelets;  fields  of 
floating  ice,  through  which  the  boat  crashes;  narrow  fiords  where 
S.  A. — 17 


262  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  black  water  is  3,000  feet  deep,  and  in  fact  such  a variety  of 
scenic  wonders  of  cloud,  mountain,  and  sea  that  I doubt  whether 
their  like  can  be  found  in  the  world.  Suppose  you  could  take  the 
most  picturesque  parts  of  the  Andes,  the  Himalayas,  and  the  Alps, 
sink  them  up  to  their  necks  in  dark  blue  water,  pull  the  cloud 
masses  down  with  them  into  the  sea,  and  wrap  their  rugged 
sides  far  up  from  the  water’s  edge  with  a wonderful  mantle  of 
green,  which  is  now  brilliant  in  the  sunlight,  anon  frosted  with 
snow,  and  at  another  time  so  loaded  with  ice  that  it  lies  in  ter- 
races up  their  sides,  and  add  to  this  the  wonders  of  the  south 
Pacific  skies,  and  you  may  have  a faint  idea  of  Smyth’s  channel. 
Indeed,  I despair  of  giving  a picture  of  our  sail  through  the 
archipelago.  It  lasted  three  days  and  afforded  such  a series  of 
views  that  only  a biograph  of  the  gods,  operated  by  their  own 
hands,  could  depict  them  on  the  retina  of  one’s  imagination.  All 
I shall  attempt  is  to  take  the  reader  with  me  through  some  few 
places  by  a transcript  of  my  notes  made  on  the  voyage. 

Before  we  proceed  let  us  look  at  the  steamer.  It  lies  near 
Concepcion  in  the  bay  of  Coronel.  It  is  the  Itauri  of  the 
Kosmos  line,  bound  for  Hamburg;  a German  ship  of  6,200  tons, 
lighted  by  electricity  and  heated  by  steam.  Captain  Behrmann, 
her  commander,  is  German,  and  so  are  the  passengers,  officers, 
and  crew.  We  speak  German  at  the  table,  and  are,  in  fact,  a 
small  slice  of  Germany  in  one  of  the  quietest  harbours  of  the 
coast  of  Chile.  I go  to  my  room,  which  is  as  good  as  any  of 
the  first-class  cabins  of  an  Atlantic  liner.  We  have  our  first 
meal  here.  The  cooking  is  German.  As  I go  down  to  dinner 
I hear  the  squawk  of  a chicken.  Our  meats  are  carried  alive 
on  board,  so  that  we  hear,  later  on,  the  baa-ing  of  sheep,  the 
grunting  of  pigs,  and  the  cackling  of  geese,  mixed  with  the 
crunching  of  the  ice  fields  as  the  steamer  makes  its  way  through 
them. 

Before  I pay  the  $70.00,  which  is  my  fare  to  Punta  Arenas 
on  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  I ask  if  the  ship  will  go  via  Smyth’s 
channel.  The  reply  is  <(Yes.  ® The  Kosmos  is  the  only  line  that 
takes  this  route,  the  other  steamers  going  through  the  Strait, 
preferring  to  stand  the  storms  which  sweep  up  along  the  west 
coast  from  Cape  Horn  to  the  narrow,  dangerous,  slow,  but  more 
quiet,  land-locked  waters  of  the  Patagonian  coast.  We  shall  have 
to  travel  very  slowly  and  must  anchor  at  night. 


AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 


263 


But  before  we  go  let  us  look  further  at  the  ship.  What  is  its 
cargo?  It  consists  of  3,000  tons  of  saltpeter  for  Germany,  2,000 
barrels  of  Chilean  honey  for  different  parts  of  Europe,  hundreds 
of  rolls  of  Chilean  sole  leather  for  Russia,  and  wheat  and  wine 
for  Punta  Arenas  and  Montevideo.  The  steamer  is  now  taking 
on  900  tons  of  coal.  Brawny  Chilean  peasants  are  putting  it  into 
the  ship;  they  stand  in  lighters  and  shovel  the  coal  up  to  the 
platforms  under  the  doors  of  the  hold.  Here  other  peasants 
shovel  it  in.  They  swear  as  they  work,  and  we  hear  them  still 
swearing  and  heaving  as  we  go  to  bed. 

We  awake  far  out  in  the  Pacific.  The  steamer  is  rolling,  the 
white  caps  are  dancing  over  the  waves,  and  away  off  to  the  east- 
ward we  can  make  out  the  faint  blue  outlines  of  southern  Chile. 
A day  later,  in  storm  and  rain,  we  steam  past  the  long,  narrow 
island  of  Chiloe,  which  the  government  is  trying  to  colonize,  and 
on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  come  into  the  Gulf  of  Penas  and 
anchor  at  the  entrance  to  the  channel.  The  steamer  moves 
slowly,  though  the  water  is  like  a mill-pond.  We  seem  to  be  in 
a great  river  rather  than  on  the  ocean.  We  are  sailing  among 
the  clouds  through  the  water-filled  ravines  of  some  of  the  greatest 
of  the  world’s  mountains.  On  our  right  are  grass-clad  islands; 
on  our  left  are  rugged,  jagged  peaks,  rising  in  all  shapes  out 
of  the  sea.  There  is  one  clothed  in  green,  shaped  like  the 
Pyramid  of  Ghizeh,  and  there  is  another  which  is  a fair  likeness 
of  the  smashed-nose  Sphinx.  In  front  the  green  hills  are  climb- 
ing over  one  another  like  a troop  of  giants  playing  leap  frog, 
and  farther  on  they  rise  upward  in  fort-ljke  walls  of  green  a 
thousand  feet  high,  losing  themselves  in  a misty  white  cloud 
which  rests  above  them. 

As  we  proceed,  the  channel  narrows  and  widens.  Now  we  are 
in  lakes  surrounded  by  snow-capped  mountains,  now  in  canons, 
now  we  sail  by  a break  in  the  mountains,  a deep  fiord  with 
moss-green  walls,  snow  dusted,  a thousand  feet  high,  and  filled 
with  black  water  a thousand  feet  deep.  As  we  look,  the  sun 
breaks  its  way  into  the  gorge  and  turns  the  water  to  silver  — 
it  paints  diamonds  in  the  snow  of  its  moss-green  hills.  Over 
there  is  a glacier,  a great  green  mass,  shining  out  upon  the 
ragged  sides  of  a snowy  mountain.  As  we  look  the  sun  has 
struck  it,  and  it  is  now  a bed  of  emeralds  in  a setting  of  frosted 
silver. 


264  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  weather  and  the  sky  change  every  moment.  We  have  an 
ever-varying  panorama  of  sky  and  sea  and  land.  We  sail  out  of 
the  sunlight  into  a snow  storm,  and,  by  and  by,  steam  right  out 
of  the  snow  into  the  sun.  Now  the  sky  is  almost  blue  overhead, 
with  fleecy  white  clouds  scattered  here  and  there  through  it. 
Cloud  masses  here  nestle  in  the  velvety  laps  of  the  hills,  there 
they  wrap  themselves  about  the  snowy  peaks  as  though  to  warm 
them,  and  beyond  they  stoop  down  and  press  warm,  tantalizing 
kisses  upon  their  icy  lips.  Upon  the  snow-dusted  hills  and  dark 
waters  are  dashes  of  silver  where  the  sun  has  poked  its  way 
through  the  clouds.  The  varying  light  makes  the  channel  on  one 
side  black;  on  the  other  side  it  is  of  a beautiful,  yellowish  green; 
and  behind,  where  the  sun  strikes  it,  the  ship  has  left  a path  of 
molten  silver. 

The  hills  change  even  as  the  water  under  the  sun.  Now  they 
are  dark,  anon  the  sun  washes  them  with  its  rays,  and  the  ferns, 
moss,  and  trees  brighten.  The  ragged  volcanic  background  of 
the  rocks  shows  out,  and  through  the  green  and  black,  falling 
hundreds  and  sometimes  thousands  of  feet,  almost  straight  down, 
are  silvery  cascades,  some  as  tiny  streamlets,  others  in  larger 
volume.  These  are  to  be  seen  all  along  these  inland  channels. 
They  come  from  the  glaciers  and  the  mountain  snows. 

One  of  the  strangest  of  the  atmospheric  effects  happened  on 
our  third  day  in  the  channel.  The  mountain-walled  river  had 
widened  and  we  were  again  coming  to  narrows,  when  over  our 
pathway  in  front  of  us  a rainbow  sprang  from  the  snowy  sum- 
mits of  a low  mountain  in  the  south  to  that  of  another  mountain 
almost  opposite  on  the  north  of  the  channel,  making  a great 

rainbow  span  over  the  dark  water.  It  was  a splendid,  many- 

coloured  arch  of  the  gods  seemingly  resting  upon  pedestals  of 
frosted  silver.  As  we  approached  the  rainbow  faded  and  the  sky 
became  blue  overhead,  but  a great  wall  of  fleecy  white  clouds 
had  dropped  down  upon,  or  rather  risen  up  from,  the  water. 

When  I first  saw  it  I thought  it  was  a field  of  icebergs.  It  was 

as  white  as  snow  and  it  extended  upward  to  a height  of  several 
hundred  feet,  stretching  across  the  channel  from  mountain  to 
mountain.  Above  this  wall  the  sky  was  clear  and  the  only  other 
clouds  to  be  seen  were  those  hovering  over  the  mountain  peaks. 
We  sailed  out  of  the  brightness  right  into  this  cloud  wall,  out  of 
the  dry  air  into  a mist  so  dense  that  we  could  almost  wash  our 


AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 


hands  in  it.  Half  an  hour  later  we  were  again  under  a clear 
sky.  At  times  the  masts  of  the  steamer  were  in  the  clouds  and 
the  deck  was  clear  and  dry;  anon  the  clouds  would  form  a roof 
over  the  channel,  and  again  the  lower  walls  of  the  hills  would  be 
hidden  and  we  could  look  over  the  clouds  at  the  green  and  snow 
above. 

It  is  strange  to  think  of  green  moss,  green  trees,  and  a mass 
of  dense  green  vegetation  amid  snows  and  glaciers.  That,  how- 
ever, is  what  we  have  here.  The  glaciers  slide  down  into  the 
green,  and  the  snow  falls  and  melts  upon  it  all  winter  long.  In 
many  places  the  green  is  clear,  in  others  it  is  snow  dusted,  and 
in  others  still  loaded  with  snow  masses.  Only  upon  the  highest 
peaks  is  it  all  snow  and  ice.  Even  in  the  jungles  of  India  I 
have  not  seen  so  dense  a growth  of  trees  and  plants  as  along 
the  west  coast  of  Patagonia.  We  had  a chance  to  go  on  shore 
every  afternoon  when  we  anchored  for  the  night.  Pushing  our 
way  into  the  country  was,  however,  impossible.  The  trees  are 
evergreens,  generally  small,  but  so  dense  that  we  could  walk  on 
their  tops  on  snow  shoes.  A bed  of  moss  as  deep  as  one’s  waist 
covers  the  ground  about  them,  and  great  ferns  with  leaves  as 
long  as  one’s  arm  extend  out  in  every  bare  and  rocky  spot. 
The  ground  is  saturated  with  moisture.  The  mould  and  rotting 
wood  of  centuries  covers  it,  and  you  sink  in  and  stumble  about 
more  than  you  would  in  an  Irish  bog. 

It  is  only  on  the  higher  parts  of  the  mountains  that  vegetation 
ceases,  and  only  there  that  the  climate  is  such  as  to  produce 
glaciers  and  perpetual  snow.  The  icebergs  which  we  saw  in  the 
channel  come  from  these  glaciers,  which  are  among  the  finest  in 
the  world,  many  of  them  surpassing,  it  is  said,  the  largest  gla- 
ciers of  the  Alps.  In  Tierra  *del  Fuego  they  line  the  channels 
in  places  with  walls  of  ice  a thousand  feet  high,  and  ships  must 
sail  carefully  not  to  be  struck  by  the  icebergs  which,  in  blocks  of 
a thousand  tons  and  upward,  break  off  from  them  with  a noise 
like  thunder  and  fall  into  the  sea.  Icebergs  often  fill  Smyth’s 
channel  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  through.  This  was  the 
case  last  year,  when  one  of  the  steamers  was  forced  to  go  back, 
and  just  where  we  are  now  passing,  the  ship  upon  which  I now 
am  had  its  bows  crushed  in  by  an  iceberg.  This  glacial  ice  is 
not  like  that  of  our  rivers  and  lakes;  it  is  as  hard  as  a rock  and 
of  a crystalline  green. 


266  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

During  our  second  day  in  the  archipelago  the  captain  stopped 
the  steamer,  lassoed  an  iceberg  and  towed  it  close  up  to  the 
ship.  It  was  a little  berg,  no  larger  than  a Washington  city 
lot,  but  it  was  of  a beautiful  opalescent  green,  with  a top  of 
frosted  silver  and  many  angles  and  projections.  With  crowbars 
the  steward  and  a boat  load  of  sailors  attacked  it  and  broke  off 
enough  ice  to  last  us  the  remainder  of  the  voyage.  One  of  the 
great  log  chains  used  for  hoisting  heavy  cargo  was  first  coupled 
about  the  corner  of  one  of  the  ice  masses,  then  a lever  in  the 
engine  room  was  pulled  and  a section  of  an  iceberg  was  raised 
to  the  deck  of  the  vessel.  Some  of  these  blocks  were  very  large ; 
altogether  we  must  have  taken  on  board  a hundred  tons  of  ice. 

During  our  voyage  through  these  strange  islands  we  saw  but 
little  animal  life.  Now  and  then  we  passed  a small  school  of 
seals  that  popped  their  heads  out  of  the  water  and  took  a peep 
at  the  steamer  as  it  went  by.  We  saw  half  a dozen  whales  dur- 
ing the  trip  and  occasionally  an  albatross  and  a gull. 

We  had  a number  of  visits  from  the  wild  savages  of  the  Ma- 
gellans,  the  naked  Indians  of  the  Patagonian  channels,  who  are 
perhaps  the  least  known  of  all  wild  men.  As  far  as  I could 
learn,  no  ethnologist  has  ever  lived  with  or  made  a study  of 
them.  They  are  different  from  the  Onas  and  Yaghans  of  Tierra 
del  Fuego,  among  whom  missionaries  have  laboured,  and  several 
of  whom  were  carried  years  ago  to  England.  The  Indians  of 
Smyth’s  channel  are  known  as  the  Alacalufs:  there  are,  all  told, 
only  about  500  of  them.  They  have  no  chiefs  or  tribal  relations, 
each  family  taking  care  of  itself,  and  living  in  its  own  canoe. 

The  Alacalufs  are  strictly  canoe  Indians;  they  live  almost 
entirely  upon  the  sea,  and  they  are  found  only  in  these  straits 
off  the  coast  of  southern  Patagonia.  They  sleep  sometimes  on 
land,  in  little  wigwams  three  feet  high,  made  by  bending  over 
the  branches  of  trees  and  tying  them  together.  They  build  a 
fire  in  front  of  the  wigwam  and  crawl  into  it  for  the  night. 
Their  canoes  are  well  constructed : they  are  about  fifteen  feet  long, 
about  three  or  four  feet  wide,  and,  perhaps,  two  feet  deep.  They 
are  made  of  strips  of  bark  sewn  together  with  sinews;  they  are 
cross  ribbed,  and  so  made  that  they  can  be  easily  paddled.  In 
the  centre  of  each  boat  is  a fire,  built  on  some  earth,  and  about 
this  sit  those  of  the  family  who  are  not  paddling  or  steering  the 
boat.  They  are  curious-looking  people,  wearing  no  clothes  and 


(26?)  SAVAGE  WOMANHOOD  OF  THE  STRAIT  OF  MAGELLAN 


AT  THE  TAIL  END  OF  OUR  HEMISPHERE 


269 


apparently  comfortable  even  amid  the  snows  of  winter,  with 
only  a coating  of  fish  oil  to  protect  them.  Since  they  have  seen 
white  men,  however,  they  are  glad  to  get  such  clothing  as  they 
can  beg,  and  they  come  about  the  ships  and  ask  for  cast-off  gar- 
ments, food,  and  tobacco.  Some  of  those  we  saw  were  as  naked 
as  Adam  and  Eve  before  the  Fall;  others  wore  pieces  of  old 
clothes. 

One  man,  I remember,  who  was  apparently  the  head  of  the 
almost  naked  family  in  his  canoe,  had  on  a short  vest,  open  at 
the  front,  and  a rag  apron  as  small  as  a lady’s  handkerchief  tied 
to  a string  about  his  waist.  His  favourite  wife,  lightly  clad  in  a 
string  of  beads,  sat  in  a boat  near  the  fire,  with  a naked  boy  of 
two  who  sucked  his  fingers  as  he  leaned  against  her;  his  other 
wife,  a buxom  girl  in  her  teens,  held  a naked  baby  to  her  breast 
with  one  hand,  while  she  paddled  the  boat  with  the  other.  I was 
meantime  shivering  in  my  overcoat,  but  as  I looked  I could  not 
see  that  the  savages  were  either  cold  or  miserable.  The  young 
mother  at  the  end  of  the  boat  had  on  only  a cast-off  sack  coat, 
which  she  had  thrown  over  her  shoulders  to  partially  cover  her- 
self and  her  baby.  As  she  paddled,  this  kept  falling  off,  and  her 
person  and  that  of  the  baby  were  exposed.  Both  were  plump,  as 
were  all  the  children. 

The  men  and  women  were  rather  under-  than  over-sized. 
Their  faces  were  somewhat  like  those  of  our  Indians.  The  men 
were  especially  dirty,  evidently  from  the  use  of  paint.  The  naked 
brave  in  the  vest  had  a thin  black  moustache.  All  had  black 
hair;  the  women  wearing  it  long  and  the  men  cut  off,  so  that  it 
just  covered  the  ears  and  fell  down  in  a thick  black  fringe  over 
the  eyes.  Their  skins  were  of  a brown  coffee  colour,  and  all  had 
very  white  teeth,  which  they  showed  again  and  again  as  they 
laughed.  Their  voices  were  not  unpleasant,  and  they  mimicked 
us  as  we  called  out  to  them. 

The  man  in  the  vest  had  two  or  three  otter  skins,  which  one 
of  the  officers  of  the  ship  endeavoured  to  buy.  The  Indian  would 
not  come  on  board,  however,  and  the  officer  had  to  crawl  down 
the  side  of  the  ship  and  hold  on  there  over  the  boat  by  a rope, 
while  he  sought  to  make  the  trade.  He  had  a big  butcher  knife 
in  one  hand,  while  he  held  on  to  the  rope  by  the  other.  He 
wanted  the  savage  to  give  him  two  skins  for  the  knife,  but  the 
savage  thought  that  one  was  enough.  The  naked  man  would  not 


270  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

give  up  the  skin  until  he  had  the  knife  in  his  hand,  and  in  the 
trade  he  displayed  no  little  shrewdness  and  ability  to  bargain. 
Neither  party  could  understand  the  other,  and  neither  would 
trust  the  other.  In  the  end,  the  savage,  however,  got  the  best 
of  the  bargain.  The  only  things  that  can  be  used  in  trading 
with  these  people  are  bright  cloths,  beads,  tobacco,  and  knives. 
They  do  not  know  the  use  of  money,  and  would  rather  have  a 
jack-knife  or  hatchet  than  a gold  nugget.  They  were  evidently 
afraid  to  come  on  board,  for  they  are  by  no  means  friendly  to 
strangers,  and  will  kill  them  if  they  can  attack  them  with  safety. 
They  use  bows  and  arrows  for  defence  and  in  warfare. 

The  food  for  the  family  is  usually  got  by  the  women  of  the 
tribe,  of  whom  each  man  has  one  or  more.  The  food  consists  of 
fish,  mussels,  and  now  and  then  a fox,  seal,  or  otter.  The 
women  fish  with  lines,  but  without  hooks.  They  tie  a small  piece 
of  meat  to  the  end  of  a line,  and  when  the  fish  has  swallowed 
this  it  is  jerked  into  the  canoe.  The  Alacalufs  are  fond  of 
whale  meat,  and  a dead  whale,  it  is  said,  is  cut  in  pieces  and 
buried,  to  be  eaten  in  its  various  stages  of  decomposition  as  long 
as  it  lasts.  They  understand  what  tobacco  is,  and  those  we  met 
were  quite  as  anxious  to  get  tobacco  as  food.  They  had  but  a 
few  foreign  words,  one  of  which  was  <(Frau  Lehman, the  term 
by  which  they  designate  all  foreigners;  the  two  other  words  in 
use  by  them  were  “galleta,”  the  Spanish  word  for  sweet  cakes, 
and  “tabac,®  the  German  equivalent  for  tobacco. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


IN  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  MAGELLANS 

How  the  People  live  and  do  Business  in  the  most  southerly  City  in 
the  World  — Lots  which  formerly  Cost  a Postage  Stamp  are  now 
worth  Thousands  of  Dollars  — The  Big  Sheep  Farms  of  Patagonia 

AND  TlERRA  DEL  FuEGO VULTURES  THAT  PICK  OUT  THE  EYES  OF  LlVE 

Sheep  — The  Panthers  and  the  Indian  Sheep-Stealers. 

unta  Arenas  is  the  southernmost  city  in  the  world.  It 
is  at  the  extreme  foot  of  the  South  American  continent, 
1,200  miles  nearer  the  south  pole  than  Cape  Town  at 
the  lower  extremity  of  Africa.  It  is  7,000  miles  south  of  New 
York,  in  the  corresponding  latitude  of  Labrador.  Still  its  winters 
are  warmer  than  those  of  Washington  city,  and  now,  at  its  cold- 
est, the  earth  is  covered  with  green. 

Situated  on  the  northern  coast  of  the  Strait  of  Magellan, 
midway  between  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific  Oceans,  more  than 
a hundred  miles  north  of  Cape  Horn,  Punta  Arenas  is  the  com- 
mercial capital  of  a vast  region  of  land  and  sea  which  is  almost 
unknown  to  the  outer  world.  From  the  spot  where  I write  I can 
see  the  blue  forests  of  Tierra  del  Fuego,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Strait.  There  are  a vast  number  of  smaller  islands  about, 
and  behind  me,  stretching  away  for  hundreds  of  miles,  are  the 
mountains  and  sheep  farms  of  Patagonia.  There  is  no  town  of 
any  size  within  a thousand  miles.  We  have  no  telegraphic  con- 
nection with  the  outer  world,  our  only  news  coming  from  the 
steamers  passing  through  the  Strait. 

Punta  Arenas  is  a free  port,  and  quantities  of  provisions  and 
other  stores  are  brought  here  to  supply  the  steamers  and  sailing 
vessels  which  pass  through  the  Strait  of  Magellan  on  their  way 
to  and  from  Australia  and  Europe,  or  the  east  and  west  coasts  of 
South  America.  Just  now  there  are  English  and  German  steam- 
ers in  the  harbour  loading  and  unloading  freight.  An  American 
schooner  from  Boston,  with  a party  of  a dozen  men  en  route  to 

(271) 


272  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  Klondike,  is  taking-  in  provisions,  and  one  of  the  ships  of 
Grace  & Co.,  bound  for  New  York,  passed  by  this  morning.  A 
steamer  from  New  Zealand,  with  a cargo  of  frozen  sheep  for 
London,  left  yesterday.  There  are  several  wool  schooners  in  the 
harbour,  and  the  little  steam-tug,  which  carries  passengers  three 
times  a week  to  and  from  Tierra  del  Fuego,  is  just  puffing  out 
on  its  voyage  across  the  Strait. 


INDIANS  OF  PATAGONIA 


Punta  Arenas  lies  right  on  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  It  has  a 
good  harbour,  the  land  about  which  slopes  gently  upward  from 
the  water.  Upon  this  has  been  built  a straggling  town,  more 
than  a mile  long  and  a quarter  of  a mile  wide.  Back  of  it  there 
is  a hill  perhaps  a hundred  feet  high,  and  farther  in  the  rear 
may  be  seen  the  last  of  the  Andes,  which  here  rise  from  three  to 
five  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  their  tops  covered  with  snow. 

The  city  has  been  cut  out  of  the  woods,  and  as  we  enter  it 
we  are  reminded  of  the  frontier  settlements  of  our  wooded  north- 


IN  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  MAGELLANS 


273 


west.  Its  houses  are  scattered  along-  wide  streets,  with  many  re- 
curring gaps,  and  here  and  there  a stray  stump.  The  streets  are 
a mass  of  black  mud,  through  which  huge  oxen  drag  heavy  carts 
by  yokes  fastened  to  their  horns.  At  one  place  the  sidewalk  is  of 
concrete,  at  another  it  is  of  wood,  and  a little  farther  on  it  is  of 
mud,  and  the  pedestrian  must  balance  himself  on  a log  to  make 
his  way  over  it.  Many  of  the  houses  are  built  of  sheets  of  cor- 
rugated iron,  their  walls  wrinkled  up  like  a washboard,  and  all 
have  roofs  of  this  material.  A few  are  painted,  but  nearly  all 
are  of  the  galvanized  slaty  colour  of  the  metal  as  it  comes  from 
the  factory.  None  of  the  cheaper  houses  has  a chimney.  The 
stove  pipes  which  stick  up  through  the  roofs,  and  which  you  see 
here  and  there  coming  out  through  the  windows  with  upturned 
elbows,  take  its  place. 

There  is  plenty  of  building  space,  but  when  you  ask  the 
price  of  vacant  lots  you  find  that  property  is  high.  What  in  the 
United  States  would  be  a $50  shanty  is  here  worth  $500,  and  a 
good  business  corner  will  sell  for  several  thousand  dollars.  Not- 
withstanding, these  same  lots  were  within  a few  years  given  away 
for  a revenue  stamp.  The  Chilean  government  was  then  anxious 
to  increase  the  size  of  the  colony,  and  it  offered  building  sites  to 
all  who  would  erect  houses  and  pay  the  five-cent  stamp  which 
the  law  provides  shall  be  upon  every  deed.  (<  That  lot,  ® said  a 
man  to  me,  as  he  pointed  to  a corner  just  above  the  Kosmos 
hotel,  <(  cost  me  a postage  stamp,  and  I hold  it  to  be  worth  now 
$5,000. ® The  days  for  such  investments,  however,  are  past,  and 
better  buildings  are  going  up  every  year.  Now  every  inch  of 
town  property  has  a fixed  value,  and  there  are  several  business 
blocks  which  would  not  seem  out  of  place  in  an  American  city. 

Punta  Arenas  has  one  residence  which  would  be  considered  a 
mansion  in  Washington  city.  It  is  by  all  odds  the  finest  house 
near  the  South  Pole.  It  has  cost  $100,000,  and  its  owner  is  a 
millionaire  widow,  young,  beautiful,  and  accomplished.  She  is 
the  sister  of  the  American  consul,  and  the  daughter  of  a Russian 
who  made  a large  fortune  in  sheep-raising.  She  inherited  an- 
other fortune  at  her  husband’s  death,  so  that  she  can  afford  to 
build  a palace  even  on  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  Her  house  is 
made  of  red  brick  covered  with  stucco,  so  finished  that  it  looks 
like  light  brown  stone.  The  bricks  in  it  were  imported  from 
Europe,  and  workmen  were  brought  from  Buenos  Aires  to  erect  it. 


274  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

This  house,  however,  is  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  Punta 
Arenas.  Most  of  the  dwellings  are  one-story  structures,  which 
in  the  United  States  could  be  built  for  from  $500  to  $2,000. 
Many  of  the  poorer  houses,  however,  are  occupied  by  rich  men; 
indeed,  Punta  Arenas  has  as  many  rich  men  as  any  frontier 
town  of  its  size.  It  is  the  metropolis  of  the  sheep  industry  of 
southern  Patagonia.  It  has  thirty-three  men,  each  of  whom  owns 
or  controls  from  25,000  to  2,500,000  acres  of  land.  Each  has 
tens  of  thousands  of  sheep,  and  the  wool  clip  of  some  of  these 
sheep  farmers  is  worth  more  than  the  annual  salary  of  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States. 

The  citizens  of  Punta  Arenas  come  from  all  parts  of  the 
world.  You  hear  English,  German,  and  Spanish  at  every  corner, 
and  your  ears  are  dinned  with  the  jargon  of  the  Austrian,  the 
Italian,  and  the  Russian.  Some  of  the  richest  people  are  Rus- 
sians; others  are  Scotchmen,  who  have  come  here  from  the  Falk- 
land Islands  to  engage  in  sheep-farming:  among  them  also  are 
treacherous  Spaniards,  smooth-tongued  Argentines,  and  hard-look- 
ing brigands  from  Chile.  The  lower  classes  are  chiefly  shepherds 
and  seamen,  and  among  them  are  as  many  rough  characters  as 
are  to  be  found  in  our  mining  camps  of  the  West.  There  are 
no  licensed  gambling  dens  or  sporting  houses,  but  there  are 
saloons  managed  by  hard-featured  young  women,  who  sit  in  the 
door-ways  during  the  day  and  smoke  cigarettes. 

The  Governor  of  the  Magellans  lives  in  Punta  Arenas.  He 
is  appointed  by  the  President  of  Chile,  and  rules  not  only  the 
Magellans,  but  the  whole  of  the  islands  of  the  Tierra  del  Fuegan 
archipelago.  He  has  four  hundred  soldiers  stationed  in  the  city. 
You  hear  the  military  bands  playing  at  nine  in  the  morning, 
when  they  begin  their  drill,  and  again  at  sunset  about  four 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  soldiers  act  as  police,  keeping  ex- 
cellent order:  each  has  a long  sword  at  his  side,  which  at  times 
he  does  not  scruple  to  use  in  making  arrests.  Of  late  some  of 
the  soldier-police  have  been  using  sword-canes.  They  apparentl)7 
have  nothing  but  walking  sticks,  but  when  resisted  they  jerk  the 
stick  apart  and  give  the  offender  a thrust  under  the  fifth  rib 
with  a sharp  blade  of  steel. 

It  is  curious  to  think  of  a social  club  down  here  in  the  home 
of  the  guanaco,  the  seal,  the  whale,  and  the  naked  aborigine. 
But  Punta  Arenas  has  its  clubs,  where  the  men  meet  to  have  a 


IN  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  MAGELLANS 


275 


good  time,  to  play  a game  of  poker,  and  have  some  liquid  re- 
freshment. The  club  is  also  the  fire  company,  for  here,  as  in 
many  of  the  South  American  cities,  the  fire  company  is  composed 
of  the  best  men  in  the  place.  In  Punta  Arenas  the  club  parlours, 
which  are  well  furnished,  are  over  the  engine  room.  In  the  club 
you  will  find  besides  billiard  rooms,  two  poker  rooms,  a reading 
room,  and  last  but  not  least  a bar.  The  bar  is  to  be  found  in 
every  club  as  well  as  in  every  hotel  in  South  America. 

Sheep-farming  has  now  become  the  great  industry  of  the  re- 
gion. A large  part  of  lower  Patagonia  is  given  up  to  it,  and  all 
the  available  lands  in  the  Chilean  territory  of  the  Magellans,  in- 
cluding Tierra  del  Fuega,  have  been  either  bought  or  leased.  It 
will  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  growth  of  the  industry 
when  I state  that  in  1878  there  were  only  185  sheep  in  all 
the  Magellans.  Seven  years  later  there  were  40,000,  while  in 
1892  the  number  had  increased  to  480,000!  In  1895  it  was  esti- 
mated that  there  were  900,000,  and  now  on  Tierra  del  Fuego 
alone  there  are  considerably  more  than  a million  sheep.  The 
sheep-farmers  came  first  from  the  Falkland  Islands,  but  more  re- 
cently Australians,  French,  Germans,  Russians,  and  others  have 
joined  with  them  in  appropriating  the  lands.  The  majority,  how- 
ever, still  are  English  and  Scotch. 

The  management  of  one  of  these  large  sheep-farms  is  inter- 
esting. Take  that  of  a company  which  has  two  and  one-half 
million  acres  in  Tierra  del  Fuego.  Its  one  hundred  thousand 
sheep  are  divided  up  into  flocks  of  two  thousand  each.  Each 
flock  has  a pasture  of  about  six  miles  square  allotted  to  it.  This 
is  just  the  size  of  many  of  our  American  townships,  and  if  you 
will  imagine  a township  as  one  field  you  will  have  an  idea  of  the 
ordinary  Tierra  del  Fuego  pasture.  This,  to  many  of  our  farm- 
ers, would  seem  a large  area  of  land  for  two  thousand  sheep,  but 
the  grass  is  short  in  Tierra  del  Fuego,  and  from  two  to  three 
acres  of  pasture  are  required  for  the  grazing  of  each  sheep. 

Every  flock  has  its  own  shepherd,  who  on  horseback  watches 
the  sheep.  The  sheep-tender  has  a number  of  dogs,  mostly  in- 
telligent collies,  which  he  so  trains  that  they  will  obey  his  signs. 
The  collies  understand  their  master’s  signs  almost  as  well  as  if 
they  could  understand  language.  When  the  shepherd  makes  a 
motion  to  the  front,  they  know  that  they  are  to  go  ahead,  a mo- 
tion to  the  rear  calls  them  back,  and  the  raising  of  his  hand  in 
the  air  brings  them  to  a standstill.  Other  motions  send  them  to 


276  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  right  and  left ; in  fact,  they  act  for  him  nearly  as  well  as  if 
they  were  human  beings. 

The  shepherds  are  usually  Scotchmen,  who  come  to  the  coun- 
try on  a five  years’  contract  at  from  $25  to  $35  gold  a month, 
with  the  understanding  that  they  are  to  have  meat,  fuel,  and 
house  rent  free.  The  meat  is  mutton,  the  fuel  they  cut  them- 
selves, and  their  houses  are  little  two-  or  three-room  shanties 
scattered  over  the  farm.  All  the  feeding  the  sheep  get  is  from 
the  pasture,  for  the  grass  is  always  green,  and  sheep  can  graze 
in  Tierra  del  Fuego  all  the  year  round. 

The  shepherds  do  not  need  to  work  hard  most  of  the  year; 
nor  have  they  much  work  at  shearing  time,  for  most  of  the  shear- 
ing is  done  by  professional  shearers  and  the  shepherds  only  as- 
sist. The  shearing  time  begins  in  January,  and  on  a big  sheep 
station  it  lasts  for  two  months.  The  sheep  are  not  washed  be- 
fore shearing.  The  wool  is  cleaned  after  it  reaches  the  European 
market.  The  price  paid  the  shearers  is  $4.50  per  hundred  sheep, 
at  which  rate  an  expert  can  make  fair  wages. 

Within  the  past  year  or  so  some  flocks  in  Tierra  del  Fuego 
have  been  sheared  by  steam.  A set  of  knives  or  clippers,  like 
those  used  by  our  barbers  for  clipping  the  hair  short,  is  attached 
to  a cord  running  on  an  overhead  pulley,  and  a man  moves  these 
clippers  over  the  skin  of  the  sheep  shearing  off  the  wool.  This 
is  said  to  make  a cheaper  and  closer  job  than  by  hand  and  does 
not  cut  the  skin.  After  shearing,  the  fleeces  are  carefully  spread 
out,  being  laid  one  on  top  of  the  other,  and  packed  up  in  bales 
of  five  hundred  pounds  each.  Most  of  the  wool  goes  to  the 
English  markets,  where  it  brings  from  eight  to  twenty-five  cents 
per  pound.  All  of  the  large  stations  have  their  managers,  over- 
seers, and  book-keepers. 

Every  large  sheep- farm  has  its  own  store,  where  the  men  can 
get  their  supplies;  and  most  of  the  farms  are  managed  after  the 
best  business  methods.  There  are,  however,  heavy  expenses  con- 
nected with  the  business,  and  the  losses  are  often  excessive.  I 
heard  of  one  farmer,  for  instance,  who  paid  $40,000  for  dip w 
last  year.  <(  Dip is  the  fluid  in  which  the  sheep  are  washed 
several  times  a year  to  free  them  from  the  scab.  The  scab  is 
the  greatest  enemy  of  the  sheep;  it  is  a parasite  which  spreads 
so  rapidly  that  it  will  infect  a thousand  sheep  within  a few  days. 
It  eats  into  the  flesh,  getting  under  the  skin,  and  if  not  soon 
destroyed  it  breeds  so  fast  that  the  sheep  die.  The  preventive 


IN  THE  CAPITAL  OF  THE  MAGELLANS 


277 


is  a bath  or  dip  which  kills  the  parasite.  The  dip-fluid  is  put  in 
a great  vat,  ninety  feet  long,  six  feet  wide,  and  so  deep  that  a 
sheep  must  swim  to  get  through  it.  The  sheep  are  put  in  at 
one  end  and  made  to  swim  the  length  of  the  trough,  when  they 
step  out  upon  a draining  board;  the  dipping  is  usually  resorted 
to  three  times  a year. 

Among  the  other  enemies  of  the  sheep-farmer  in  Tierra  del 
Fuego  are  vultures,  foxes,  wild  dogs,  and  panthers,  besides  the 
more  savage  Indians.  The  sheep  are  usually  so  fat  that  if  one 
of  them  fall  down  and  roll  upon  its  back  it  cannot  turn  over 
of  itself;  it  can  only  lie  there  and  kick.  The  vultures  watch  the 
sheep,  and  when  such  an  accident  happens  they  attack  the  help- 
less animal  and  pick  out  its  eyes.  After  this  it  may  live  some 
days,  but  as  soon  as  it  is  dead  the  vultures  finish  their  work  by 
tearing  its  flesh  from  the  bones.  The  foxes  of  Tierra  del  Fuego 
are  as  large  as  dogs,  and  they  have  the  look  of  wolves.  They 
attack  the  sheep  and  often  drive  them  into  the  streams  and 
drown  them.  There  are,  moreover,  wild  dogs  in  the  forests  that 
often  come  out  in  packs  of  from  ten  to  thirty  and  worry  the 
sheep;  there  are  also  panthers,  one  of  which  may  kill  a hundred 
sheep  in  a night;  and  last  and  worst  of  all  are  the  savages,  who 
will  steal  and  drive  off  five  hundred  sheep  at  a time. 

Yet  with  all  this  it  may  be  asked,  does  sheep-farming  pay  ? 
Yes,  if  you  can  get  the  land  and  the  sheep.  But  the  pasture 
lands  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  are  now  all  taken  up,  although  I am 
told  that  there  is  still  some  to  be  bought  in  Argentine  Patagonia. 
Much  of  the  Chilean  lands  are  held  under  leases  from  the  gov- 
ernment; nearly  all  is  in  large  tracts,  which  is  necessary  on  ac- 
count of  the  thinness  of  the  pasture.  Sheep  in  Tierra  del  Fuego 
are  worth  on  the  average  $2.50  gold  per  head.  It  is  estimated 
that  the  ewes  will  produce  an  increase  of  about  fortv-five  per 
cent  of  the  flock  per  year,  and  taking  the  wool  and  the  increase 
into  consideration,  every  sheep  in  a flock  should  net  its  proprietor 
about  a dollar  a year.  The  number  of  employes  needed  is  com- 
paratively small,  and  the  need  is  being  considerably  reduced  by 
fencing  the  pasture-fields  with  wire.  At  present  it  takes  a large 
capital  to  go  into  sheep-raising  in  this  part  of  the  world,  an  1 
considering  everything  I should  say  that  the  chances  for  the  or- 
dinary American  farmer  or  small  investor  are  hardly  worthy  of 
consideration. 

S.  A.— 18 


CHAPTER  XXX 


TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 

New  Facts  about  one  of  the  least-known  parts  of  the  World  — An 
Island  covered  with  Dense  Vegetation,  havin,g  Mighty  Forests  and 
Grass-grown  Plains  — Where  the  Gold  Mines  are  Located,  and  how 
Nuggets  and  Scales  of  Gold  are  Picked  out  of  the  Sands  of  the 
Sea— The  Indians  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  — The  Onas,  who  go  Naked, 
Sleep  in  Holes  in  the  Ground,  and  Wage  War  upon  the  Whites  — 
The  Yaghans,  who  are  Semi-Civilized  — Their  Wonderful  Language. 

he  Tierra  del  Fnego  of  the  geographies  and  encyclopae- 
dias is  a dreary  land  of  snow  and  ice,  of  glaciers  and 
rocky  wastes.  Let  me  tell  the  reader  what  the  real 
Tierra  del  Fuego  is.  My  information  comes  from  what  I have 
seen,  and  from  the  men  who  have  lived  upon  the  great  island 
and  visited  nearly  every  part  of  it. 

The  archipelago  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  contains  as  much  land 
as  Kansas.  It  is  wider  from  east  to  west  than  from  Cleveland  to 
Chicago,  and  from  north  to  south  it  is  longer  than  from  New 
York  to  Boston.  The  archipelago  is  made  up  of  hundreds  of 
wooded  islands,  mostly  mountainous,  but  a few  of  which  have 
valleys  and  plains  covered  with  rich  grass,  on  which  sheep  and 
cattle  rapidly  grow  fat.  The  largest  islands  of  the  archipelago 
are  Onisin,  or  King  Charles  Southland,  or  Tierra  del  Fuego 
proper;  Desolation  Island,  which  lies  near  the  western  entrance 
to  the  Strait,  and  along  which  I coasted  for  miles  on  my  way 
here ; the  Isle  of  St.  Ives,  Clarence  Island,  and  Dawson  Island,  a 
little  farther  to  the  eastward,  and  the  large  islands  of  Hoste  and 
Navarino  on  the  south.  Cape  Horn  itself  is  on  one  of  the  small 
islands  on  the  southernmost  part  of  the  archipelago. 

The  chief  island  is  Tierra  del  Fuego  proper.  It  is  half  as  big 
as  Ohio,  and  now  supports  hundreds  of  thousands  of  sheep.  The 
island  is  unequally  divided  between  Chile  and  the  Argentine  Re- 
public. Chile  owns  nearly  all  of 'the  islands  of  the  archipelago 
and  most  of  the  sheep  lands  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  proper.  The 
(278) 


TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 


279 


lands  of  the  Chilean  part  have  been  taken  up  within  the  past 
few  years  under  leases  from  the  Chilean  government.  The  Ar- 
gentine portion  is  not  so  well  settled,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of 
access  and  the  uncertainty  as  to  the  boundary.  Still  from  what 
I can  learn  the  Argentines  have  some  of  the  best  lands.  Nearly 
all  the  southern  and  eastern  portions  of  the  island  are  plains, 
wide  stretches  of  moorland,  covered  with  grass,  which  in  summer 
is  green,  but  now  in  winter  has  turned  a reddish  brown.  The 
other  parts  are  made  up  of  mountains,  valleys,  and  plains. 
Around  the  west  and  south  coast  is  a rim  of  mountains,  many 
of  which  rise  almost  precipitously  from  the  water,  and  which 
probably  gave  Darwin  the  basis  for  his  statement  that  there  was 
not  a level  acre  of  ground  upon  the  whole  island.  The  plains 
are  in  the  interior.  Running  midway  between  north  and  south, 
and  extending  across  the  country,  there  is  an  elevated  table- 
land and  beyond  this  to  the  north  is  a second  elevated  plain. 

The  grasses  of  the  plains  are  rich,  but  they  are  so  largely 
eaten  up  by  ground-rats  that  it  takes  from  three  to  five  acres  to 
support  a single  sheep.  The  rats  burrow  in  the  earth,  cutting  it 
into  holes  like  a prairie-dog  town.  They  make  it  impossible  to 
drive  over  the  plains  with  a waggon,  and  horseback-riding  has  to 
be  at  a slow  pace.  Only  cattle  will  drive  the  rats  away,  and 
they  are  used  to  tramp  the  ground  for  the  purpose. 

It  seems  strange  to  think  of  a dense  vegetation  in  Tierra  del 
Fuego.  One  might  almost  as  soon  believe  that  grass  could  be 
raised  on  an  iceberg.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  the  winter 
climate  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  is  milder  than  that  of  Canada.  The 
lowlands  are  seldom  covered  with  snow  for  more  than  a few  days 
at  a time,  though  you  are  in  sight  of  snow  and  glaciers  on  the 
mountains  all  the  year  round.  The  climate  varies  in  different 
parts,  but  it  is  generally  cool,  cloudy,  and  windy.  The  most  ob- 
jectionable feature  is  the  wind,  which  at  times  blows  for  days  at 
a stretch  and  sends  the  chilly  air  through  one’s  bones  in  penetrat- 
ing blasts.  Tierra  del  Fuego  is  in  the  latitude  of  Labrador,  but 
so  is  a large  part  of  England  and  Holland;  and  I imagine  that, 
barring  these  winds,  (<  Tierra  del,®  as  they  have  nicknamed  the 
island,  has  winters  more  like  those  of  northern  Europe  than  the 
winter  of  Labrador. 

The  vegetation  is  that  of  the  temperate  rather  than  of  the 
frigid  zone.  The  mountain  slopes,  up  to  about  one  thousand 


2 8o  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

feet,  are . walled  with  a growth  of  trees,  ferns,  and  mosses  so 
dense  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  through  the  entangle- 
ment. On  the  sides  of  the  steeper  mountains  the  trees,  instead 
of  growing  straight  up,  crawl  upon  the  earth ; so  that  a tree,  with 
a trunk  as  thick  as  a man’s  waist,  is  not  more  than  three  feet  high, 
but  spreads  over  a large  piece  of  ground.  This  is  probably  due 
to  the  mountain  snow,  which  presses  the  trees  down  to  the 
ground  and  still  keeps  them  warm  enough  so  as  not  to  impede 
their  growth. 

And  what  kind  of  trees  do  they  have  down  here  at  the  tail 
end  of  creation  ? The  most  common  is  the  beech.  There  are 
vast  forests  of  antarctic  beeches  in  Chilean  Tierra  del  Fuego,  the 
trees  of  which  are  eighty  feet  tall  and  six  feet  thick.  They  make 
excellent  lumber,  and  some  are  now  being  cut  down  and  shipped 
to  Buenos  Aires.  One  species  of  the  beech  tree  is  of  our  ever- 
green variety;  another  is  a common  beech  like  that  of  our  Cen- 
tral States.  There  are  also  trees  of  the  magnolia  species.  There 
.are  twenty-five  different  varieties  of  shrubs  and  bushes  in  Tierra 
del  Fuego,  besides  wild  gooseberries  and  wild  raspberries.  Wild 
strawberries  of  great  size  and  delicious  flavor  are  found  in  their 
season,  and  there  are  also  wild  grapes  and  wild  celery.  Ferns 
are  to  be  seen  almost  everywhere;  indeed,  they  seem  to  be  in- 
digenous in  certain  parts  of  the  country.  The  sheep-farmers 
raise  cabbages,  potatoes,  turnips,  and  peas  in  their  gardens,  and 
they  tell  me  that  in  the  spring  and  summer  the  pastures  are 
dotted  with  wild  flowers. 

Tierra  del  Fuego  has  been  called  the  (<  Klondike  of  South 
America.”  So  far,  however,  there  is  no  justification  for  the  term. 
There  is  plenty  of  gold,  no  doubt;  but  as  yet  no  large  quantities 
have  been  discovered,  and  that  found  is  difficult  to  mine.  The 
gold  is  all  placer  gold;  some  of  it  is  in  the  shape  of  nuggets  as 
large  as  marrowfat  peas,  but  the  greater  part  is  in  leaflets  or 
scales. 

Most  of  the  mines  are  in  the  southern  part  of  Tierra  del 
Fuego  proper  and  the  islands  adjacent.  The  gold  is  found  on 
the  shores,  the  clay  containing  it  running  down  under  the  water 
and  being  exposed  only  at  low  tide.  The  ground  is  covered 
with  shingle  and  sand,  which  must  be  removed  before  bed-rock 
is  reached.  At  the  Slogget  Bay  diggings,  for  instance,  there  are 
six  feet  of  sand  and  gravel  above  the  bed-rock.  This  has  to  be 


TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 


281 


shovelled  off,  and  at  the  next  tide  the  gold-bearing  clay  is  again 
covered.  Almost  similar  conditions  exist  at  the  washings  on  the 
island  of  Navarino  and  elsewhere.  From  what  I was  able  to 
learn  there  are,  I should  judge,  only  a few  places  where  gold 
has  been  found  in  profitable  deposits,  and  these  are  nothing  in 
comparison  with  the  great  gold  mines  of  our  Western  States. 
There  are  two  or  three  companies  now  at  work  who  use  sluice 
boxes  with  machinery  pumping  the  water  from  the  sea  and 
gathering  the  gold  dust  with  mercury  and  copper  plates.  Most 
of  the  mining,  however,  is  spasmodic  and  uncertain.  The  terri- 
tory is  exceedingly  difficult  to  reach,  and  prospecting  is  coupled 
with  such  hardships  and  expense  in  the  way  of  getting  supplies 
that  the  American  miner  had  better  stay  at  home. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  savages  who  live  at  the  lower  end  of 
our  hemisphere.  I have  already  described  the  Alacalufs  or 
Canoe  Indians;  they  are  found  only  on  the  waterways  of  the 
western  part  of  the  archipelago.  Tierra  del  Fuego  proper  and 
the  larger  islands  are  inhabited  by  two  tribes,  each  of  which  is 
different  from  any  other  Indian  tribe  of  South  America. 

The  Onas  are  found  chiefly  in  northern  and  central  Tierra  del 
Fuego;  they  are  very  savage  and  wage  war  on  the  whites.  Only 
a short  time  ago  two  Chilean  naval  officers  were  killed  by  them 
while  surveying  one  of  the  smaller  islands.  When  found  the 
Chilenos  were  naked,  their  clothing  having  been  stripped  off,  and 
in  one  of  the  bodies  were  found  twenty-five  arrows  with  glass 
heads. 

The  shepherds  often  shoot  the  Ona  Indians  at  sight,  for  they 
say  it  is  cheaper  to  kill  than  to  civilize  them.  The  Roman  Cath- 
olics have  a mission  station  on  Dawson  Island,  not  far  from 
Tierra  del  Fuego,  on  which  are  some  Onas,  but  most  of  the  tribe 
are  still  wild.  In  their  natural  state  the  Onas  go  naked.  When 
captured  by  the  missionaries  they  may  be  induced  to  wear  cloth- 
ing, but  one  seldom  meets  with  a brave  who  will  not  part  with 
his  suit  of  clothes  for  a plug  of  tobaccq,  or  a squaw  who  would 

not,  in  a driving  snowstorm,  take  off  all  she  has  on  for  a piece 

of  red  cloth  or  a string  of  bright  beads. 

In  their  wild  state  the  Onas  sometimes  wear  a strip  of  guan- 
aco  skin  over  the  shoulders.  The  adults  have  breech  cloths,  but 

the  children  wear  nothing  save  the  coating  of  fish  oil  with  which 

they  are  liberally  smeared.  The  oil  serves  to  keep  out  the  cold; 


282  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

and  so  far  I have  yet  to  see  an  Indian  shiver,  although  in  my 
winter  flannels  and  overcoat  I myself  am  none  too  warm.  The 
Tierra  del  Fuegans  have  been  painted  by  travellers  as  wretched 
and  miserable  in  the  extreme.  They  appear  to  be  sleek,  fat,  and 
well-fed,  and  are  generally  good-natured.  The  Alacalufs  I saw 
wore  a perpetual  grin,  and  the  Onas  and  Yaghans  are,  when 
among  themselves,  full  of  good  humor. 

In  travelling  along  the  shores  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  you  stum- 
ble now  and  then  over  an  Ona  house.  It  is  merely  a hole  in 


AN  ONAS  FAMILY  — TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 


the  ground  with  a wind-break  of  branches  or  trees  bent  down 
and  tied  together  over  it.  The  hole  is  about  three  feet  deep  and 
just  big  enough  to  contain  the  Indian  and  his  family.  They  use 
it  chiefly  at  night,  crawling  in  and  cuddling  up  together  with 
their  dogs  lying  about  and  over  them  for  warmth.  Such  fires  as 
they  make  are  for  cooking,  and  are  in  front  of  and  outside  the 
dug-out  sleeping-place.  They  do  not  like  to  stay  more  than  a 
night  or  so  in  the  same  place,  as  they  have  an  idea  that  the 
devil  or  evil  spirit  is  after  them,  and  that  they  must  move  on  or 
he  will  catch  them. 


TIERRA  DEL  FUEGO 


283 


The  Onas  are  of  a good  size,  though  not  such  giants  as  trav- 
ellers have  painted  them.  The  men  are  usually  about  six  feet 
tall,  and  the  women  about  five  feet,  five  inches.  The  Yaghans 
are  much  smaller,  and  the  Alacalufs  are  between  the  two.  Were  it 
not  for  their  stomachs,  the  Onas  might  be  said  to  be  well-formed. 
They  are  straight,  deep-chested,  and  muscular.  The  women  when 
young  are  plump  and  well-rounded,  with  fine  necks  and  breasts. 
They  are,  however,  great  gluttons,  and  sometimes  gorge  them- 
selves so  that  their  stomachs  are  stretched  out  like  drumheads, 
and  extend  out  into  pot-belliedness.  They  have  lighter  skins 
than  our  Indians  and  have  high  cheekbones,  flat  noses,  straight, 
dark  eyes,  and  rather  full,  sensuous  lips.  Their  hair  is  straight 
and  black,  and  among  the  men  the  fashion  is  to  have  it  singed 
at  the  crown,  forming  a sort  of  tonsure.  The  women  let  their 
hair  grow,  and  it  hangs  down  over  their  shoulders.  The  men  do 
not  have  beards  until  late  in  life,  and  as  they  do  not  like  to  ap- 
pear old  they  usually  pull  out  the  stray  hairs  on  their  faces;  an 
Ona  seldom  has  a beard  before  he  is  thirty-five  or  forty. 

The  Onas  apparently  do  not  care  whether  their  food  is  fresh 
or  not.  Before  the  advent  of  sheep-farming  in  Tierra  del  Fuego, 
they  lived  on  fish,  fungi,  and  guanacos.  Guanacos  are  wild  ani- 
mals of  the  same  genus  as  the  llama.  They  seem  to  be  a cross 
between  the  deer  and  the  camel,  and  in  size  look  like  a very 
large  sheep.  The  Onas  run  them  down  with  their  dogs  and 
follow  them  also  on  foot.  They  are  fast  runners,  and  take  steps 
— as  an  Argentine  man  who  lived  on  the  islands  told  me  — six 
feet  apart.  When  they  kill  more  game  than  they  can  eat, 
they  bury  what  is  left  over  in  the  bed  of  a stream  and  come 
back  a week  or  so  later  and  eat  it.  This  is  especially  so  of  the 
sheep  they  steal  from  the  whites.  They  drive  the  sheep  off  in 
flocks  of  five  hundred  or  more,  get  them  well  into  the  forest, 
and  then  have  a big  feast.  They  then  break  the  legs  of  the 
remaining  sheep  and  drown  them  in  some  deep  stream,  leaving 
them  there  until  the  chase  by  the  farmers  is  over,  when  they  go 
back  for  another  but  now  well-rotted  feed.  They  eat  the  decayed 
flesh  of  stranded  whales  which  they  find  on  the  shore,  but,  as 
a rule,  do  not  go  out  in  canoes  to  fish  as  do  the  Yaghans  and 
the  Alacalufs.  They  also  make  traps  to  catch  game.  They  use 
only  bows  and  arrows  in  war  and  for  hunting;  the  arrows  used 
to  be  tipped  with  flint,  but  now  they  are  pointed  with  pieces  of 


284  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

glass,  made  out  of  the  broken  whiskey  and  wine  bottles  thrown 
out  by  the  steamers  passing  through  the  Strait  of  Magellan. 

The  Ona  women  weave  very  pretty  rush  baskets  of  a bowl 
shape.  They  cure  the  skins  which  their  husbands  bring  in  from 
the  hunt,  and  sew  them  together  with  sinews  into  robes  or  rugs. 
The  Onas,  I am  told,  have  no  Great  Spirit,  or  God,  as  our  Indians 
have.  They  believe  in  polygamy,  one  man  having  several  wives, 
which  he  buys  of  their  fathers  at  as  low  a price  as  he  can. 

Before  the  whites  came  there  were  something  like  three  thou- 
sand of  the  Yaghan  Indians.  They  were  described  by  sea  cap- 
tains as  a healthy,  hearty,  naked,  savage  race.  The  English 
early  established  a mission  in  south  Tierra  del  Fuego  and  per- 
suaded them  to  put  on  clothes.  It  is  claimed  that  with  the  wear- 
ing of  clothes  came  consumption  and  pneumonia,  and  that  these 
ailments  have  reduced  their  number  to  less  than  five  hundred. 
The  head  of  the  mission  among  these  Indians  is  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Bridges,  who  owns  a big  sheep-farm  in  the  south.  He 
has  an  Indian  settlement  where  the  people  live  in  houses,  and 
where  they  farm  on  a small  scale.  The  information  I gathered 
about  the  Yaghans  I owe  almost  entirely  to  Mr.  Bridges.  He 
says  they  live  in  groups  of  about  thirty  families;  they  are  not 
cannibals,  as  has  been  charged,  and  they  do  not  eat  raw  meat. 
Their  principal  food  consists  of  mollusks,  fish,  sea  calves,  birds, 
strawberries,  and  fungi.  Their  women  cook  these  things  in  differ- 
ent ways;  they  cook  birds  by  placing  them  on  the  coals  and 
putting  red-hot  stones  inside  of  them ; they  bake  eggs  by  break- 
ing a small  hole  in  one  end  and  then  standing  them  upright  in 
the  embers  before  the  fire,  turning  them  round  and  round  to 
make  them  cook  evenly.  They  cook  the  blood  of  animals,  but, 
as  a rule,  eat  their  vegetables  raw.  The  women  are  both  fishers 
and  hunters.  The  men  make  the  canoes,  but  the  women  paddle 
them;  the  latter  are  good  at  the  oars  and  usually  are  better  and 
more  fearless  swimmers  than  the  men. 

One  of  the  wonderful  things  about  the  Yaghans  is  their  lan- 
guage. With  no  means  of  writing,  yet  they  have  a vocabulary  of 
about  forty  thousand  words.  Mr.  Bridges,  who  has  made  a Yaghan - 
English  dictionary,  gives  this  as  the  number.  The  Eskimo  use, 
it  is  said,  less  than  ten  thousand  words,  and  Shakespeare’s  vocab- 
ulary, it  is  known,  contained  only  twenty-four  thousand  words. 
The  contrast,  in  the  case  of  the  Yaghans,  is  therefore  remarkable. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


IN  THE  FALKLAND  LSLANDS 

John  Bull’s  new  Naval  Station  in  the  South  Atlantic  — It  Controls  Cape 
Horn  and  the  Strait  of  Magellan  — Where  the  Falklands  are  — 
Their  vast  Sheep-Farms,  which  are  Managed  by  Shepherds  on  Horse- 
back— A Visit  to  Stanley,  the  Capital  — Travelling  Schoolmasters 
— Postal  Savings  Banks  and  other  Features  of  the  thriftiest 
Island  Community  in  the  World. 

he  Falklands  are  among  the  little-known  islands  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  and  yet  they  promise  to  become  one  of 
the  news  centres  of  the  world.  The  islands  form  a crown 
colony  of  Great  Britain,  which  is  now  planning  to  establish  a 
naval  and  coaling  station  upon  them.  Such  a station  would  com- 
mand not  only  the  passage  around  Cape  Horn,  but  also  the  At- 
lantic entrance  to  the  Strait  of  Magellan,  the  two  great  trade 
routes  round  South  America,  over  which  hundreds  of  millions  of 
dollars’  worth  of  freight  passes  annually. 

The  Falklands  lie  about  250  miles  east  of  Cape  Virgens,  at 
the  Atlantic  entrance  to  the  Magellans,  less  than  a day’s  steam- 
ing for  one  of  England’s  great  war  vessels.  They  are  even 
nearer  the  track  of  ships  going  round  Cape  Horn.  With  the 
exception  of  Punta  Arenas,  which  belongs  to  Chile,  and  which 
by  the  neutrality  laws  could  not  furnish  coal  except  in  times  of 
peace,  the  only  coaling  port  near  the  islands  is  at  Montevideo,  a 
thousand  miles  to  the  northward,  the  next  nearest,  perhaps,  being 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  at  the  lower  extremity  of  the  African 
continent  more  than  four  thousand  miles  off. 

The  islands  were  discovered  by  an  English  commander  named 
Davis,  in  1592,  and  two  years  later  were  sighted  by  Sir  Richard 
Hawkins,  who  named  them  the  Maiden  Islands  in  honor  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  Later  on  the  Spanish  government  claimed  them,  and 
the  Argentine  Republic,  as  the  heir  of  Spain,  looked  upon  them 
as  her  property.  In  1833  England  again  took  possession  of  them, 

(285) 


286  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

and  to-day,  although  Argentina  disputes  her  title,  she  holds  them 
fast. 

I arrived  at  the  Falklands  from  Punta  Arenas  on  the  steamer 
Itanri  of  the  Kosmos  line.  The  islands  are  so  far  off  the  regu- 
lar routes  of  travel  that  tourists  seldom  visit  them.  The  Kos- 
mos line,  although  it  is  owned  by  Germans,  has  a subsidy  from 
the  English  government  to  carry  the  mails,  and  it  makes  calls  at 
Port  Stanley,  the  capital,  once  every  three  weeks  on  its  way  to 
and  from  Hamburg  and  the  west  coast  of  South  America.  We 


PENGUINS  IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 


were  one  day  at  sea,  sighting  the  islands  in  the  evening:  we 
sailed  all  night  along  their  bleak,  bare,  and  rocky  coasts,  reach- 
ing Port  Stanley  in  the  morning. 

The  islands  extend  from  west  to  east  for  about  two  hundred 
miles.  There  are  two  hundred  of  them,  consisting  of  two  large 
islands  and  many  are  so  small  that  they  do  not  even  make  appreci- 
able dots  on  the  map.  Some  of  the  smaller  islands  are  inhabited 
only  by  penguins,  there  being  so  many  of  these  birds  that  the 
governor  of  the  Falklands  has  been  called  “the  King  of  the 
Penguins.  w 


IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 


287 


The  islands  altogether  have  about  two-thirds  as  much  land  as 
the  State  of  Massachusetts,  and  East  and  West  Falkland,  the  two 
larger  islands,  are  about  five  times  as  large  as  Rhode  Island. 
East  Falkland,  the  larger  island  of  the  two,  is  95  miles  long  and 
40  miles  broad  and  has  an  area  of  3,000  square  miles.  It  is  the 
most  settled  of  the  islands,  having  the  capital,  Port  Stanley, 
situated  on  an  excellent  harbour  on  its  eastern  shore.  All  of  the 
larger  islands  are  covered  with  sheep-farms,  which  are  of  such 
immense  size  that  twenty-seven  men,  it  is  said,  own  the  whole 
country.  The  total  population  is  under  2,000,  and  over  1,900  of 
these  work,  in  one  way  or  another,  for  these  twenty-seven  men. 
The  inhabitants  are  nearly  all  Scotchmen,  and  the  islands  are 
like  a little  slice  of  Scotland  in  the  South  Atlantic. 

The  pasturage  of  the  islands  comprises  2,325,000  acres.  Upon 
this  area  more  than  750,000  of  the  finest  sheep  in  the  world  are 
feeding  and  from  them  §500,000  worth  of  wool  is  exported  every 
year.  One  company  alone  owns  240,000  sheep,  and  the  man 
who  owns  less  than  25,000  sheep  is  considered  a small  farmer 
indeed. 

Outside  of  sheep-raising  there  are  no  other  industries.  There 
are  only  fifty  pigs  in  the  whole  of  the  islands;  and  although  the 
grass  is  good  for  cattle,  there  are  but  few  in  the  Falklands.  Not 
enough  wheat  is  raised  to  make  a Maryland  biscuit,  and  the  only 
signs  of  agriculture  are  the  little  garden  patches  of  cabbages,  po- 
tatoes, and  turnips  which  one  sees  back  of  each  of  the  houses  of 
the  shepherds  on  the  moors,  at  the  capital,  and  at  the  other 
small  settlements  scattered  here  and  there  over  the  two  chief 
islands. 

The  Falklands  are  a very  cave  of  Aiolus.  The  cold  winds 
blow  almost  all  day  long  and  every  day;  it  is  said,  they  some- 
times blow  the  vegetables  out  of  the  ground.  They  blow  so  hard 
that  not  a tree  can  live,  and  to-day  there  are  not  enough  bushes 
on  the  islands  to  furnish  switches  for  a country  school.  The 
Governor  told  me  that  it  was  his  ambition  to  raise  at  least  one 
tree,  and  that  he  had  already  made  several  attempts,  but  in  vain. 

The  pasture,  however,  grows  luxuriantly,  and  the  sheep  keep 
fat,  if  the  land  is  not  overstocked.  They  breed  so  fast  that  tens 
of  thousands  of  the  older  ones  are  killed  and  thrown  into  the  sea 
every  year,  their  skins  only  being  saved.  There  is  a curious 
grass  on  the  islands,  which  is  a tonic  as  well  as  a food  for  the 


288  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

animals  eating  it.  It  is  in  fact  a sort  of  a vegetable  cocktail.  It 
is  called  tussock  grass,  and  has  a stalk  from  four  to  six  feet  high 
and  blades  about  seven  feet  long.  The  plants  grow  close  to- 
gether in  bunches,  as  many  as  250  roots  springing  from  one 
plant.  Animals  eat  the  roots  as  well  as  the  leaves,  and  feeding 
upon  them  fatten  rapidly.  The  roots  are  even  eaten  by  men, 
and  it  is  said  that  two  Americans  once  lived  for  fourteen  months 
upon  them  on  one  of  the  smaller  islands.  The  roots  of  the  old 
plants  decay  and  raise  the  grass  upward,  so  that  it  grows  upon 
a cushion  of  manure,  as  it  were.  Some  of  these  cushions  are 
six  feet  high  and  five  feet  in  diameter,  so  that  the  grass 
springing  from  them  makes  them  look  from  a distance  like  a grove 
of  low  palm  trees.  The  tussock  grass  grows  along  the  coast  even 
down  to  high-water  mark.  It  is  fast  disappearing,  however,  as 
the  sheep  are  so  fond  of  it  that  they  eat  it  far  down  into  the 
roots.  Another  odd  plant  which  grows  in  the  bogs  looks  like  a 
stone.  It  forms  bunches  from  three  to  eight  feet  tall  and  is  as 
hard  as  a rock;  indeed,  it  is  so  hard  that  one  cannot  cut  it  with 
a knife.  On  hot  days  a pale  yellow  gum  comes  out  on  its  sur- 
face, and  a rich  aromatic  odour  fills  the  surrounding  air.  It  is 
known  as  the  balsam  bog. 

It  is  always  cloudy  in  the  Falklands.  The  air  is  moist,  and 
nature  is  dreary  in  the  extreme.  Imagine  a dull  leaden  sky 
hanging  low  over  reddish-brown  moors,  out  of  which,  here  and 
there,  jut  the  ragged  teeth  of  white  rock  masses,  and  you  have  a 
general  idea  of  the  Falkland  Island  landscape.  The  islands  are 
gently  rolling,  with  here  and  there  a ragged  hill.  The  land 
is  black,  full  of  peat,  and  here  and  there  is  streaked  with 
little  streams  and  spotted  with  treacherous  bogs,  in  which  horses 
and  men  are  sometimes  lost.  The  ground  is  so  soggy,  in  fact, 
that  waggons  cannot  be  used.  There  is  not  a four-wheeled  ve- 
hicle in  the  whole  country.  Carts  can  be  used  only  in  Port 
Stanley.  All  travel  is  on  horseback,  and  a stranger  dare  not  go 
from  one  sheep  farm  to  another  without  a guide.  Such  hauling 
as  is  done  by  the  shepherds  is  on  sledges  dragged  over  the  wet 
but  snowless  ground  by  horses.  All  herding  of  sheep  is  done 
upon  horses  and  with  shepherd  dogs,  which  are  raised  and  trained 
for  the  purpose. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  Falklands  are  excellent  for  the 
raising  of  cattle  and  sheep.  The  latitude  is,  roughly  speaking, 


IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 


289 


the  equivalent  in  the  southern  hemisphere  of  that  of  Holland 
in  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  the  animals  feed  out  all  the 
year  round.  Before  sheep  were  introduced,  the  islands  fairly 
swarmed  with  wild  cattle  and  wild  horses  : about  forty  years 
ago  it  is  estimated  that  there  were  800,000  wild  cattle  on 
the  island.  Now  these  have  all  disappeared,  though  almost  as 
many  sheep  have  taken  their  places.  The  wild  cattle  occasioned 
the  first  settlement  on  the  islands.  In  1844,  a rich  cattle-and- 
hides-dealer  of  Montevideo,  named  Lafone,  bought  the  right  to 
the  southern  portion  of  East  Falkland,  together  with  all  the  wild 
cattle  on  the  islands,  for  $50,000  down  and  the  promise  to  pay 
$100,000  additional  in  ten  years  from  1852.  In  this  deal  he  got 
over  600,000  acres  of  land,  besides  the  skins  of  the  wild  cattle. 
In  1852,  he  sold  to  a company  his  property  in  the  Falkland 
Islands  for  $150,000,  and  since  then  this  company  has  been  the 
leading  power  in  the  Falklands.  The  company  has  bought  more 
land,  and  it  now  probably  owns  more  than  1,000,000  acres.  It 
has  about  300,000  sheep,  and  it  has  a sailing  vessel  which 
goes  to  London  once  a year  to  carry  its  wool  and  bring  back 
the  canned  goods,  clothes,  sheep-farming  implements,  and  other 
things  required  by  the  islands.  It  has  a line  of  boats  which 
periodically  makes  the  round  of  the  islands,  carrying  to  the 
farmers  such  goods  as  they  order,  and  bringing  their  wool  to 
Stanley  for  shipment  to  Europe.  The  wool  is  put  up  in  bales 
just  as  we  bale  cotton.  Much  of  it  goes  to  the  markets  by  the 
regular  steamers.  That  on  which  I came  is  now  loading  wool 
in  the  harbour.  It  will  take  on  1,200  bales  of  650  pounds  each, 
which,  at  ten  cents  a pound,  the  price  it  will  bring  in  London, 
will  make  a cargo  worth  $80,000. 

It  does  not  take  many  shepherds  to  care  for  the  large 
flocks  on  the  islands.  The  farms  are  divided  up  into  fields  of 
several  thousand  acres  each  and  fenced  with  wire,  so  that  all 
the  shepherd  has  to  do  is  to  ride  about  among  the  sheep  and 
take  them  out  of  the  bogs  when  they  fall  in  or  turn  them  over 
if  they  fall  down.  They  have  to  be  clipped  to  keep  off  the  scab, 
and  at  shearing  time  they  are  driven  to  the  wool  shed  and 
shorn.  The  wool  is  not  washed,  but  is  carefully  cut  off,  packed 
in  bales  of  from  six  hundred  to  eight  hundred  pounds,  covered 
with  bagging,  hooped  with  iron,  and  shipped  thus  to  London 
for  sale. 


290  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Most  of  the  Falkland  sheep  are  of  the  Cheviot  and  Austra- 
lian breeds.  They  have  heavy  fleeces,  the  average  being  from 
eight  to  ten  pounds,  and  running  from  that  up  to  twenty-one 
pounds,  the  actual  weight  of  a fleece  recently  sheared. 

The  life  of  the  shepherds  on  the  Falklands  is  a lonely  one. 
Like  the  shepherds  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  they  are  Scotchmen. 
Most  of  them  are  married,  and  all  have  large  families.  Their 
houses  are  scattered  over  the  farms  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles 
apart;  they  are  usually  built  near  a peat  bed  and  near  a little 
inlet,  where  the  company’s  boat  can  bring  supplies.  The  wages 
are  the  same  as  in  Patagonia,  from  $25  to  $35  per  month,  in- 
cluding meat  and  fuel.  The  meat,  of  course,  is  mutton,  and  the 
fuel  is  peat,  which  the  shepherd  must  dig  for  himself.  In  addi- 
tion to  this,  he  has  a garden  patch,  and  with  mutton  and  vege- 
tables he  does  very  well.  His  flour  and  other  necessary  things 
he  must  buy.  His  home  is  a little  cottage  of  two  rooms  and  a 
lean-to,  roofed  with  corrugated  iron.  One  room  serves  as  a kitchen 
and  living  room,  and  in  the  other  the  family  sleep.  If  there  is  an 
overflow,  or  a guest  should  arrive,  the  loft,  or  attic,  is  also  used 
as  a bedroom.  The  cooking  is  done  in  a curious,  oven-like  pot, 
which  is  shelved  under  a grate  set  in  the  stone  wall  of  a chim- 
ney or  fireplace.  The  hot  ashes  from  the  burning  peat  fall 
down  upon  the  pot  and  around  it.  The  pot  is  tightly  closed  at 
the  top,  and  it  serves  alike  for  boiling,  baking,  and  stewing. 
The  shepherd  has  mutton  as  a steady  diet:  he  has  mutton  chops 
for  breakfast,  roast  mutton  for  dinner,  and  a slice  of  cold  mut- 
ton for  lunch  or  supper. 

The  shepherds  seldom  leave  their  farms  and  the  women  often 
remain  upon  them  for  years  at  a time.  I heard  of  one  woman 
who  had  not  been  to  town  for  eighteen  years.  Her  last  visit 
was  when  she  came  to  Port  Stanley  to  be  married.  Think  of 
living  away  out  on  the  dreariest  moorland,  under  the  dreariest 
sky,  in  a two-roomed  cottage,  with  no  neighbour  within  fifteen 
miles,  and  of  coming  into  town  only  once  in  eighteen  years! 

You  would  think  that  the  children  brought  up  under  such 
circumstances  would  be  wild  and  uneducated.  They  are  not. 

They  are  as  intelligent  and  well-mannered  children  as  you  will 
find  in  any  country  community.  They  have  a peculiar  institu- 
tion in  the  Falklands  known  as  the  travelling  schoolmaster. 
He  is  paid  by  the  Government,  receiving  about  $400  a year,  to 


IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 


291 


go  from  one  shepherd’s  house  to  another  and  teach  the  children. 
The  time  allotted  to  each  family  is  a fortnight,  and  if  three 
families  can  bring  their  children  together  they  thus  get  six  weeks 
of  schooling.  The  schoolmaster  lives  two  weeks  with  each  family, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  time,  having  laid  out  a course  of  home 
study  for  the  children,  is  sent  on  horseback  by  the  shepherd  to 
the  next  family,  which  may  be  twenty  miles  away.  In  the  course 
of  time  he  gets  back  to  his  old  pupils,  examines  them  in  what 
they  have  gone  over  with  their  parents  and  sisters,  and  then 
takes  them  as  much  farther  on  the  road  to  learning  as  his  two 
weeks’  stay  will  permit. 

The  bishop  and  parson  of  Port  Stanley,  who  are  also  paid 
by  the  Government,  make  a tour  of  the  islands  once  or  twice  a 
year  to  examine  the  children,  not  only  in  their  catechism,  but  in 
their  secular  studies.  These  children  are,  however,  from  the  best 
stock  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  Their  ancestors  are  among 
the  thriftiest  people  in  the  world;  indeed,  many  of  the  shepherds 
save  money,  and  not  a few  have  taken  their  savings  to  Patagonia 
and  have  there  become  sheep-owners  themselves.  There  is  not 
a beggar  in  the  Falkland  Islands  to-day. 

Still,  the  chances  for  poor  men  are  not  many.  The  good 
lands  are  all  taken  up,  and  nothing  is  for  sale  or  for  rent.  Much 
of  the  land  is  held  under  twenty-one-year  leases  from  the  Eng- 
lish Government,  in  blocks  of  6,000  acres  at  the  rental  of  $100 
per  annum.  It  will  be  a long  time  before  such  leases  will  run 
out,  and  the  value  of  the  land  is  now  so  well  known  that  the  re- 
newal of  the  leases  will  be  at  such  prices  as  to  leave  little  profit 
to  the  outsider.  There  is  a very  limited  labour  market  in  the 
Falklands;  those  who  are  employed  get  good  pay,  but  the  com- 
ing in  of  a hundred  new  hands  would  necessarily  result  in  the 
discharge  of  so  many  men  who  now  have  work.  The  shepherds 
themselves  have  large  families,  and  some  of  their  children,  when 
grown  up,  will  have  to  go  elsewhere  to  labour. 

Let  us  take  a look  at  Port  Stanley,  the  capital  of  these 
islands.  It  has  but  700  inhabitants,  including  the  governor  and 
his  officials;  but  it  has  more  business  than  many  towns  five 
times  its  size.  It  is  perhaps  the  richest  capital  city  in  the  world, 
for  everyone  of  its  inhabitants  has  all  he  can  eat,  and  to  spare. 
Port  Stanley  is  situated  on  Stanley  harbour,  just  beyond  Cape 
Pembroke,  at  the  eastern  end  of  East  Falkland.  Its  harbour  is 


292  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

a safe,  landlocked  bay,  about  half  a mile  wide  and  five  miles 
long,  with  an  entrance  so  narrow  that  a large  vessel  could  hardly 
turn  about  in  it. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  harbour,  running  up  a gently  sloping 
hill,  are  a hundred  or  so  neat  one-  and  two-story  cottages.  They 
are  made  of  wood  or  stone,  with  ridge  roofs  of  corrugated  iron. 
This  is  Port  Stanley.  As  }7ou  look  at  it  from  the  steamer,  it  re- 
sembles a German  village,  and  as  you  come  closer  to  it  you  find 
that  every  little  house  has  its  front  yard  and  garden,  and  that 
the  front  doors  of  even  the  poorest  of  the  cottages  have  vesti- 
bules. This  is  to  shield  the  visitors  and  the  families  from  the 

cold  wind.  In  nearly  every  window  you  see  potted  plants  and 

flowers,  for  they  do  not  grow  out  of  doors,  and  I venture  to  say 
that  there  is  not  a town  of  its  size  in  the  world  that  has  so 
many  greenhouses  and  conservatories. 

By  the  side  of  each  house  is  a pile  of  black  cubes  of  peat,  for 

peat  forms  the  fuel  of  the  town.  It  comes  from  the  bog  on  the 

top  of  the  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  Port  Stanley  lies.  Everyone 
here  can  get  his  own  fuel  for  the  digging,  and  nearly  every 
householder  in  Port  Stanley  goes  to  the  moor  and  chops  out  his 
own  peat  blocks  for  the  winter. 

Some  of  the  houses  are  quite  pretentious.  The  manager  of 
The  Falklands  Company  has  a house  containing  a dozen  rooms, 
and  the  cottages  of  the  Governor  cover  perhaps  a quarter  of  an 
acre,  all  of  the  rooms  being  on  the  ground  floor.  There  are 
three  churches,  one  of  which  is  called  the  Cathedral  (Church  of 
England).  This  is  presided  over  by  the  bishop  of  the  Falklands. 
Another  church  is  the  Roman  Catholic,  and  a third  is  that  of  the 
Baptist  denomination.  There  are  two  hotels  or  public  houses 
where  you  can  get  a bed  or  a drink.  If  you  want  the  latter, 
you  may  have  good  Scotch  whiskey  for  six  cents  a glass,  and 
Bass’s  ale  for  four  cents.  There  is  a butcher  shop  which  sells 
delicious  mutton  at  four  cents  a pound,  fairly  good  beef  for  eight 
cents  a pound,  and  other  things  equally  cheap.  There  is  a plant 
on  the  islands  called  the  tea  plant  whose  leaves  are  used  for  tea; 
it  has  berries  of  a red  rose  colour.  Celery  grows  wild.  Penguin 
eggs,  as  big  as  goose  eggs,  are  plentiful  in  season.  They  are 
delicious  eating  and  cheap.  Penguins  themselves  are  such  a 
drug  in  the  market  that  they  sometimes  sell  for  $1.50  per 
hundred.  The  waters  about  the  islands  are  full  of  fish,  but  the 


IN  THE  FALKLAND  ISLANDS 


293 


people  eat  mutton  rather  than  undertake  the  labour  of  catch- 
ing them 

Port  Stanley  has  a post  office,  at  which  the  monthly  news- 
paper mail  averages  five  pounds  per  family.  It  has  a postal 
savings  bank  in  which  the  deposits  now  amount  to  $180,000. 
There  are  only  2,000  people  in  the  Falklands,  yet  the  deposi- 
tors in  the  postal  savings  bank  number  350.  The  colony  has  a 
Governor  appointed  by  the  Crown,  who  gets  a salary  of  $6,000 
per  annum,  and  it  has  other  officials  whose  salaries  foot  up  $50,- 
000  annually.  It  has  an  American  consul,  who  is  trying  hard  to 
earn  his  salary  on  these  far-away  islands,  where  there  is  no 
American  trade,  and  where  not  a dozen  American  vessels  call  at 
the  port  in  a century.  The  consulate  is  a little  cottage  of  three 
rooms  and  a lean-to,  such  as  could  be  built  in  the  United  States 
for  $100  It  is  one  of  the  most  useless  consulates  in  our  service, 
and  there  is  no  earthly  reason  for  its  existence  except  to  give 
some  politician  a place. 

S.  A. — 19 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC 

A Bird's-Eye  View  of  the  Country  — Its  Vast  Wheat-Fields,  Sugar  Plan- 
tations, and  Extensive  Pastures  — How  it  Compares  with  the  United 
States — Its  People,  and  their  Characteristics  — The  Latin-American 
as  a National  Type  — How  Argentina  is  Growing — Its  Railroads 
and  Telegraphs  — Its  Normal  Schools,  founded  by  Yankee  School- 
Teachers. 

came  from  Punta  Arenas  via  the  Falkland  Islands  to 
Montevideo,  thence  to  Buenos  Aires.  I have  now  been 
several  weeks  in  the  Argentine  Republic.  The  country 
amazes  me:  I expected  to  find  it  not  unlike  the  United  States. 
It  is,  however,  as  different  as  lemons  are  different  from  pump- 
kins. We  have  in  the  United  States  a booming  country.  Things 
also  boom  in  the  Argentine,  but  the  character  and  conditions  of 
prosperity  are  entirely  different.  We  raise  some  wheat;  so  does 
the  Argentine.  We  raise  some  wool;  the  Argentine  raises  more. 
We  have  the  most  land,  but  the  Argentine  has  a territory  which 
is  almost  all  good  for  something,  and  in  area  it  is  at  least  one- 
third  the  size  of  our  country,  without  Alaska  and  our  new  island 
possessions.  The  Argentine  is  longer  from  north  to  south  than 
the  United  States.  It  is  almost  twice  as  long.  If  we  could  lift 
it  up  at  the  corners,  turn  it  around  and  spread  it  upon  the 
United  States  from  east  to  west,  placing  the  edge  of  Patagonia 
at  New  York,  the  borders  of  Brazil  and  Bolivia  would  be  some 
distance  beyond  Salt  Lake  City.  If  we  could  cut  it  up  into 
patchwork  pieces  and  fit  them  upon  our  territory,  every  inch  of 
the  land  east  of  the  Mississippi  would  be  covered,  and  the  rem- 
nants would  be  larger  than  the  area  of  several  States  west  of 
that  river.  The  Argentine  Republic  is  twelve  times  as  large  as 
Great  Britain.  It  is  five  times  the  size  of  France,  and  it  is 
greater  in  area  than  the  States  of  Mississippi,  Louisiana,  Texas, 
New  Mexico,  Arizona,  California,  Utah,  Colorado,  and  Kansas 
(294) 


THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC 


295 


combined.  This  vast  country  is  made  up  of  mountain  and  plain, 
and  its  plains  are  among  the  largest  in  the  world,  extending 
from  the  hot  lands  of  the  tropics  on  the  edge  of  Brazil  to  the 
cold,  terraced  pampas  of  southern  Patagonia. 

The  best  parts  of  the  Argentine  Republic  have  been  built  up 
by  the  great  river  systems  which  find  their  mouths  in  the  Rio 
de  la  Plata.  These  rivers  are  the  Uruguay,  Paraguay,  Pilcomayo, 
and  Parana:  they  form  a vast  drainage  system  which  for  ages 
has  been  carrying  down  the  soil  from  the  mountains  and  build- 
ing up  the  country.  They  drain  a territory  larger  than  the  basin 
of  the  Mississippi,  a territory,  in  other  words,  as  large  as  half  of 
the  entire  United  States. 

The  best  soil  of  Argentina  lies  along  the  rivers.  Most  of  the 
country  is  a great  plain  gently  sloping  in  the  northern  and  cen- 
tral part  from  the  Andes  to  these  streams.  If  you  could  see 
the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  you  would  realize  what  a great  earth- 
builder  the  river  is.  It  is  an  immense  river  ioo  miles  wide  at 
its  mouth  and  180  miles  long  to  the  point  where  it  is  formed  bv 
the  junction  of  the  Uruguay  and  the  Parana.  It  is  so  full  of 
silt  that  it  drops  10,000  tons  of  mud  every  hour.  This  is  a mass 
so  great  that  were  it  loaded  upon  two-horse  waggons  it  would 
take  a line  of  teams  sixty  miles  long  to  carry  it  ; it  would  re- 
quire a solid  line  of  such  teams  reaching  from  New  York  to 
Omaha  to  carry  the  droppings  of  one  day. 

I entered  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  on  board  the  German  steamer 
in  which  I sailed  from  the  Falkland  Islands  to  Montevideo.  The 
waters  of  the  Atlantic  were  stained  by  the  mud  long  before  we 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  took  us  all  night  to  sail 
across  it  and  in  the  morning  we  were  still  some  distance  from 
Montevideo.  When  I went  to  take  my  morning  bath  I found 
the  tub  filled  with  what  looked  like  split  pea  soup,  and  when  I 
let  the  fluid  out  there  was  in  the  bottom  of  the  tub  a sediment 
so  thick  that  I left  footprints  quite  as  plain  as  those  which 
frightened  Robinson  Crusoe  in  the  sand  of  his  desert  island. 

The  sea  captains  tell  me  that  these  enormous  deposits  of 
mud  are  rapidly  filling  up  the  bed  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata;  its 
depth  varies  from  13  to  36  feet,  but  it  has  many  banks  and 
shoals.  The  silt  has  given  it  a bottom  of  fine  sand.  The  large 
steamers  that  come  to  Buenos  Aires  often  have  to  plough  their 
way  through  the  mud,  and  already  the  people  are  talking  of  a 


296  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

jetty  system,  similar  to  that  which  Eads  built  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Mississippi. 

The  best  idea  of  the  Argentine  Republic  can  be  given  by 
comparing  it  with  parts  of  the  United  States.  Take  the  valley 
of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  as  you  find  it  about  here  and  for  hundreds 
of  miles  to  the  west  and  north  of  Buenos  Aires.  If  you  will  im- 
agine yourself  in  Illinois,  south  of  Springfield,  along  the  Ohio  and 
the  Mississippi  rivers  you  will  be  in  a country  much  like  this. 
You  must,  however,  cut  out  the  cornfields,  leave  out  the  woods, 
and  make  the  lands  all  pasture.  Take  away  forty-nine  farm 
houses  out  of  every  fifty,  tear  down  all  the  barns,  and  in  place 
of  our  neat  country  homes  erect  huts  of  mud  and  straw  and 
bricks,  sometimes  thatched  and  sometimes  roofed  with  galvanized 
iron.  Then  put  here  and  there  a larger  group  of  low  buildings 
surrounded  by  flowers  and  trees  belonging  to  the  rich  proprietor, 
and  you  have  the  basin  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata.  You  must  dot 
the  landscape . with  sheep  and  cattle,  in  flocks  of  thousands,  and 
imagine  vast  fields,  for  a single  farm  often  includes  ten  thousand 
acres,  and  one  man  may  own  many  square  miles  of  land. 

Farther  south,  the  Argentine  is  a tableland  not  unlike  north- 
ern Nebraska.  It  is  covered  with  sand  and  grass;  streams  twenty 
feet  deep  and  eight  feet  wide  cut  their  way  through  crumbling 
banks.  The  land  rises  in  terraces  from  the  sea  to  the  Andes; 
the  soil  is  poor,  much  of  it  being  a sandy  plain  on  which  noth- 
ing will  grow  save  by  irrigation. 

Again,  going  from  the  basin  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  westward 
the  land  rises  gently  to  the  Province  of  Cordoba,  one  of  the 
seats  of  the  old  civilization,  and  still  farther  west  to  Mendoza,  in 
the  foothills  of  the  Andes.  Cordoba  is  devoted  largely  to  graz- 
ing. It  has  a mountain  chain  running  through  it,  and  is  much 
like  West  Virginia,  save  that  it  is  not  wooded.  The  Province  of 
Mendoza  is  on  the  plateau  of  the  Andes.  It  is  a grape  and  wine 
country,  its  vines  producing  a ton  of  grapes  to  the  acre  and  a 
gallon  of  wine  to  every  twenty  vines.  Its  general  character  is 
like  that  of  Pennsylvania  in  the  region  about  Lancaster  and 
York. 

Going  farther  northward  the  scenery  of  Argentina  changes. 
You  now  get  into  the  tropics.  The  Province  of  Tucuman  has 
rich  sugar  plantations;  it  produces  ninety-five  per  cent  of  the 
sugar  consumed  in  the  Argentines.  Its  soil  will  yield  a hundred 


THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC 


297 


bushels  of  corn  to  the  acre.  Much  of  it  is  wooded  with  tropical 
trees.  It  is  mountainous,  having  an  average  elevation  equivalent 
to  that  of  Denver  and  a general  appearance  much  like  the  country 
along  the  Pennsylvania  railroad  at  the  Horse  Shoe  Bend.  Here  the 
streams  are  dry  half  the  year  and  boiling  torrents  the  remainder. 
The  Tucuman  valleys  are  hot  summer  and  winter.  Buenos  Aires 
people  go  there  to  get  away  from  the  cold,  a thing  that  seems 
ridiculous,  for  the  city  is  never  much  colder  than  Savannah  or 
Atlanta. 

In  addition  to  these  sections  there  are  other  lands  still  nearer 
Bolivia,  the  Chaco  and  Formosa  territories,  for  instance,  which 
are  heavily  wooded;  the  inhabitants  are  half-naked  Indians. 
This  region  has  been  little  explored  and  is  comparatively  un- 
known. Farther  west,  in  the  Argentine  Andes,  is  a country 
unlike  anything  in  the  United  States.  It  is  both  mountainous 
and  tropical.  The  timber  disappears  and  mineral  riches  come  to 
the  surface.  The  finest  of  marble  and  the  most  beautiful  onyx 
I have  ever  seen  are  to  be  found  in  this  region.  There  are 
mountains  rich  in  gold  and  silver,  some  of  the  mines  of  which 
are  now  being  worked.  The  mining  engineers  of  the  Roths- 
childs and  others  are  examining  the  deposits.  The  great  draw- 
backs are  the  inaccessibility  of  the  country,  its  lack  of  water, 
and  the  enormous  cost  of  carrying  mining  machinery  into  it. 

The  wheat  country  of  Argentina  lies  chiefly  north  of  Buenos 
Aires  and  east  of  Cordoba,  in  the  basin  of  the  Parana,  and  also 
in  the  province  of  Entre  Rios,  between  the  Uruguay  and  the  Pa- 
rana rivers.  This  region,  which  is  like  Illinois  along  the  Ohio 
river,  is  divided  into  comparatively  small  tracts,  and  is  largely 
farmed  by  colonies  of  foreigners.  Such  is  a bird’s-eye  view  of 
the  Argentine  Republic : farther  on  I will  fill  out  the  picture. 

Argentina  has  to-day  a population  of  four  millions,  and  is 
constantly  growing.  It  has  trebled  within  thirty  years,  and  its 
people  claim  that  it  will  have  five  millions  in  1901,  as  over 
100,000  immigrants  come  in  every  year.  More  than  one-third 
of  all  the  people  in  the  country  are  foreigners,  and  seventy 
per  cent  of  the  foreigners  are  Italians.  Eighteen  per  cent  of 
the  immigrants  are  Spanish  and  four  per  cent  French  : this 
makes  ninety-two  per  cent  of  the  immigrants  of  the  Latin  race: 
the  remaining  eight  per  cent  is  made  up  of  British,  Russians, 
Danes,  and  Swiss.  Until  lately  there  were  so  few  Americans 


298  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

that  they  were  hardly  worth  considering.  Now  Americans  of 
the  better  class  are  coming,  and  they  will  soon  form  an  im- 
portant factor  in  the  Republic.  The  Portuguese  as  a rule  do 
not  stay,  though  the  men  of  other  nations  remain.  In  a gener- 
ation or  so  they  marry  Argentine  girls  and  become  Argentines; 
out  of  the  whole  is  being  evolved  the  Argentine  type  of  the 
future. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Argentines  are  not  like  the  South 
Americans  of  the  west  coast;  they  have  no  great  strain  of  Indian 
blood  in  their  veins;  they  are  of  almost  pure  European  extrac- 
tion. They  are  not  Spanish,  nor  French,  nor  Italians,  nor  Anglo- 
Saxons  : they  are  evolving  a combination  of  all  these,  with  the 
Latin  strain  predominating,  just  as  in  America  we  are  forming 
a type  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  strain  in  the  ascendancy.  I think, 
however,  that  our  type  is  superior  to  any  that  can  be  produced 
here. 

The  change  in  Argentina  goes  on  rapidly.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  present  century  the  old  families  were  Spanish  and  Portu- 
guese. Since  then  they  have  been  intermarrying  with  the  Eng- 
lish, Scotch,  Germans,  Americans,  and  Italians.  This  can  be 
seen  in  the  names  of  the  distinguished  Argentines:  Admiral 

Brown,  one  of  their  famous  naval  officers,  was  of  English  extrac- 
tion; the  Livingston  family,  whose  ladies  are  noted  for  their 
wealth  and  beauty,  is  in  the  fourth  generation  from  the  Livings- 
tons of  New  York;  Pelligrine,  a former  president,  and  one  of 
the  ablest  men  in  the  country,  has  English  blood  in  him ; the 
grandfather  of  the  chief  of  police  of  Buenos  Aires  was  an  Ameri- 
can; the  father  of  Tornquist,  another  prominent  Argentine,  was 
a New  Orleans  man;  and  there  are  many  leading  families  in 
whose  veins  flow  rich  strains  of  Irish  or  of  Italian  blood. 

Already  the  Spanish  type  has  been  materially  modified.  In- 
deed, with  its  large  percentage  of  foreign  born,  this  country 
is  to-day  as  cosmopolitan  as  any  in  the  world.  If  one  could 
be  blindfolded,  and  on  one  of  the  magic  carpets  of  fairyland 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  be  transported  to  the  business  parts 
of  Buenos  Aires,  it  would  be  impossible  to  tell  where  one  was 
by  looking  at  the  faces  or  the  dresses  of  the  people.  If  you 
could  be  dropped  into  the  stock-exchange,  for  instance,  you 
might,  if  you  were  deaf,  imagine  yourself  in  New  York  or  Lon- 
don; you  could  not  imagine  yourself  in  Buenos  Aires.  If  your 


ARGENTINE  MAIDENS 


(299) 


THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  301 

ears  were  suddenly  opened,  you  would  still  be  at  a loss;  the 
cries  of  the  brokers  would  be  in  Spanish,  but  from  all  around 
you  would  come  a babel  of  Italian,  French,  and  English.  If  you 
went  outside,  your  situation  would  be  even  worse.  You  would 
hear  the  street-sweepers  swearing  at  each  other  in  Italian,  Eng- 
lish merchants  discussing  trade  in  Anglo-Saxon,  and  groups  of 
Basques  on  every  street  corner  gabbling  at  each  other  in  Spanish. 
You  would  hear  much  French,  and  you  might  meet  Russians, 
Poles,  and  even  Turks. 

This  large  mixture  of  foreigners  keeps  Argentina  up  to  date. 
New  ideas  are  coming  in  from  everywhere  and  the  latest  im- 
provements are  to  be  found.  Nearly  all  the  large  towns  have 
electric  lights,  many  have  good  streets,  and  there  are  excellent 
railroad  connections  with  the  leading  centres.  Argentina  now 
has  almost  10,000  miles  of  railroad,  with  a capital  of  more  than 
half  a billion  of  dollars.  Buenos  Aires  has  trains  by  which  you 
can  go  to  any  of  the  larger  cities  in  a night,  and  there  are 
sleeping  cars  on  all  the  lines.  Buenos  Aires  is  about  as  big  as 
Boston.  Rosario,  the  next  city  in  size  in  the  Republic,  has  a 
population  of  150,000.  You  can  go  to  bed  in  the  cars  in  Buenos 
Aires  and  awake  in  Rosario.  It  is  the  same  with  Bahia  Blanca, 
the  metropolis  of  southern  Argentina.  The  Tucuman  trains  have 
sleepers,  and  soon  the  traveller  will  be  able  to  cross  the  con- 
tinent via  Argentina  and  Chile  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific 
without  stepping  from  the  cars. 

The  steamship  accommodations  are  equally  good.  I came 
from  Montevideo  to  Buenos  Aires  in  a steamer  much  like  those 
which  run  between  New  York  and  Boston.  I retired  at  night  on 
the  vessel  in  Montevideo  harbour,  and  awoke  at  the  Buenos  Aires 
docks.  The  fare  was  five  dollars,  and  I think  the  Argentine 
steamers  gave  me  more  for  the  money  than  I get  at  home. 
I had  a good  stateroom;  the  ship  was  lighted  by  electric  light, 
and  it  served  an  excellent  dinner,  with  good  claret  and  a button- 
hole bouquet  without  extra  charge.  In  the  morning  the  steward 
brought  to  my  cabin  a cup  of  coffee  and  a roll,  and  more  than 
that,  carried  my  baggage  out  to  the  customhouse.  If  I re- 
member aright,  the  meals  are  charged  extra  on  the  New  York  and 
Boston  boats. 

There  are  several  mail  steamers  plying  weekly  from  Bqenos 
Aires  to  Europe.  There  are  others  which  go  south  through  the 


302  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Strait  of  Magellan  and  about  the  west  coast.  There  are  ships, 
moreover,  that  will  take  you  2,000  miles  into  the  heart  of  Brazil, 
and  twice  a week  you  may  ride  upon  one  up  the  Parana  to 
the  capital  of  Paraguay. 

Four  thousand  vessels  engaged  in  foreign  trade  go  in  and  out 
of  the  ports  of  the  Argentine  every  year.  The  volume  of  im- 
ports and  exports  in  1896  amounted  to  more  than  $227,000,000 
in  gold.  One-fourth  of  this  commerce  was  with  Great  Britain, 


ENTRANCE  TO  DOCK  No.  i (BUENOS  AIRES) 


the  country  that  does  more  than  half  of  the  whole  ocean-carrying 
trade  of  Argentina.  England  sent  forty  per  cent  of  the  imports, 
Germany  coming  next,  then  Italy;  after  these  came  France  and 
Belgium,  and  then  the  United  States.  In  buying  of  Argentina, 
France  comes  first,  Belgium  second,  England  third,  Germany 
fourth,  and  the  United  States  fifth.  Our  purchases  amount  to 
about  $6,000,000  per  annum,  and  our  foreign  trade  is  just  about 
seven  per  cent  of  the  whole.  Nearly  all  the  business  is  in  foreign 
hands.  The  houses  and  companies  handling  the  trade  have  capi- 


THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC 


3°3 


tals  amounting  to  hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars,  and  their  es- 
tablishments are  run  on  business  principles.  The  foreign  banks 
alone  have  an  aggregate  capital  of  $25,000,000,  and  I am  told 
that  nearly  all  of  them  pay  large  dividends. 

The  Argentinas  are  also  progressive  in  an  intellectual  way. 
The  government  spends  $10,000,000  a year  on  its  schools.  It 
employs  8,000  teachers  and  has  over  250,000  school  children. 
There  are  a number  of  high  schools,  three  universities,  two 
schools  of  agriculture,  a school  of  mines,  and  thirty-five  normal 
schools.  Both  girls  and  boys  attend  these  schools. 

There  are  many  women  teachers  in  the  Argentine  Republic, 
some  of  whom  came  out  from  the  United  States  years  since  to 
inaugurate  the  normal  schools.  When  Sarmiento  was  president,  a 
decade  or  so  ago,  he  made  a study  of  the  public  school  systems 
of  the  world,  and  decided  that  that  of  the  State  of  Michigan  was 
the  best.  He  imported  a number  of  cultured  Yankee  school- 
marms,  and  now  the  Argentine  has  first-class  schoolmarms  of  its 
own.  Its  normal  schools,  I am  told,  are  producing  more  of  the 
native  variety  than  can  be  used,  so  that  there  is  no  opening  here 
for  additional  American  teachers. 

The  language  used  in  the  schools  is  Spanish  — the  language 
of  the  country.  Everyone  who  has  been  in  Argentina  for  a year 
or  more  speaks  it,  and  the  children,  whatever  their  parents  may 
be,  lisp  Spanish.  There  are  private  schools  where  not  a word  of 
Spanish  is  taught,  but  it  is  the  language  of  the  playground, 
nevertheless;  and  many  a son  of  an  English  father  and  an  Ar- 
gentine mother  can  speak  nothing  else.  Spanish  is  the  language 
of  the  government,  of  business,  and  of  society;  though  most  Ar- 
gentines can  speak  French,  and  not  a few  can  converse  fluently 
in  Italian  and  English  as  well. 

The  chief  literature  to  be  found  at  the  bookstores  is  that  of 
France  and  Spain.  There  are  also  Italian,  German,  and  English 
bookstores.  The  Argentine  Republic  reads  the  newspapers.  Re- 
member, its  population,  all  told,  is  now  not  greater  than  that 
of  the  combined  cities  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia:  still,  it 
has  24  dailies,  and  146  weeklies.  Fifteen  of  the  dailies  are  pub- 
lished in  Buenos  Aires,  the  leading  one,  “La  Prensa, ” having  a 
circulation  of  70,000  copies;  another,  “The  Diario,”  an  evening 
paper,  has  a circulation  of  30,000.  There  are  three  dailies  pub- 
lished in  English,  and  one  of  these  “The  Buenos  Aires  Herald,” 


304  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

is  edited  and  owned  by  an  American:  the  other  twelve  are  in 
Spanish,  Italian,  French,  and  German. 

The  people  of  the  Argentines  are  letter  writers,  and  they  use 
the  mails.  It  is  estimated  that  177,000,000  letters  passed  through 
their  1,400  post  offices  last  year,  and  their  postal  revenue  was 
$30,000,000.  There  is  a fair  telegraph  service  under  the  govern- 
ment, and  the  telegraph  lines,  if  linked  together,  would  reach 
round  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


BUENOS  AIRES 


The  Metropolis  of  South  America,  and  the  Largest  Spanish-Speaking 
City  in  the  World  — How  it  Controls  Argentina  Politically, 
Socially,  and  Financially — Buenos  Aires  from  the  Housetops  — A 
Town  of  Shreds  and  Patches  — A look  at  its  Churches  — The  larg- 
est Catholic  City  on  Earth  — A South  American  Botany  Bay. 


juenos  Aires  is  at  once  the  London,  the  New  York,  and 
the  Paris  of  the  Argentine  Republic.  It  might  almost 
4 be  called  the  Argentine  itself,  for  it  controls  the  country 
as  no  other  capital  does  the  land  which  it  is  supposed  to  domi- 
nate. It  is  an  old  saying  that  Paris  is  France;  she  is  not  so  much 
so  as  Buenos  Aires  is  Argentina.  There  are  a half-a-dozen  cities 
in  France  that  are  independent  commercial  centres.  Paris  is  by 
no  means  all  France  industrially,  though  she  may  be  so  artistic- 
ally, socially,  and  intellectually.  Buenos  Aires  is  not  only  the 
political  capital  of  Argentina;  it  is  her  commercial  and  industrial 
capital;  her  financial,  social,  and  intellectual  capital.  Politically, 
most  of  the  Argentine  congressmen  are  citizens  of  Buenos  Aires. 
Many  of  them  who  represent  distant  districts  live  in  Buenos 
Aires  the  year  round,  although  they  may  now  and  then  go  to 
visit  their  constituents.  Many  such  are  engaged  in  the  pro- 
fessions, most  of  them  being  lawyers.  Indeed,  the  Argentine 
Republic  is  made  up  of  rotten  boroughs  represented  by  Buenos 
Aires  men;  the  result  is  that  when  Buenos  Aires  takes  snuff  all 
Argentina  sneezes. 

Buenos  Aires  owns  ninety-five  per  cent  of  the  factories  of  the 
Republic:  it  has  more  than  three  hundred  of  these,  employing 
over  12,000  hands.  The  great  volume  of  foreign  trade,  now 
amounting  to  more  than  $200,000,000  a year,  passes  through  it. 
Its  wholesale  houses  supply  the  Republic  with  goods.  The  Ar- 
gentines, in  fact,  know,  of  only  two  places  — Buenos  Aires  and 

(305) 


306  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  Camp:  Buenos  Aires  is  the  capital  city;  the  Camp  is  all  of 
Argentina  outside  of  Buenos  Aires. 

Commercially  and  financially,  Buenos  Aires  is  Argentina.  In 
it  are  the  banks  that  supply  the  Republic  with  money;  wealthy 
institutions  with  fine  buildings,  and  with  deposits  of  from  $80,- 
000,000  in  silver  down.  It  had  at  one  time  a bank  with  a capital 
of  $50,000,000,  but  this  was  closed  by  the  failures  which  startled 
the  financial  world  and  made  even  the  Baring  Brothers,  of  Lon- 
don, totter,  its  depositors  losing  $70,000,000  by  its  breaking. 


BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  BUENOS  AIRES 


Buenos  Aires  has  its  stock-exchange  where  “Argentinas })  are 
bought  and  sold  in  parcels,  and  where  stocks  and  bonds  rise 
and  fall  as  Buenos  Aires  thinks  them  good  or  bad.  On  this 
exchange  more  than  $500,000,000  worth  of  stock  (in  gold)  was 
floated  during  the  ten  years  preceding  1890.  When  the  panic 
came,  ninety  per  cent  of  the  local  companies  failed,  and  now 
most  of  the  shares  are  not  worth  one  per  cent  of  their  face  value. 
Nevertheless,  both  city  and  country  are  in  a good  financial  con- 
dition. 


(3°7)  BUENOS  AIRES- RENDENA  STREET 


BUENOS  AIRES 


3°9 


As  a social  centre  also  Buenos  Aires  is  Argentina.  Most  of 
the  money  made  in  the  camp  (i.  e.,  the  country)  is  spent  here. 
The  city  has  scores  of  millionaires,  nabobs  who  each  own  their 
half-million  acres  of  land,  and  who  count  their  cattle  and  sheep 
in  herds  of  thousands.  They  may  go  to  their  farms  in  summer, 
but  their  winters  are  spent  in  their  Buenos  Aires  palaces,  where 
they  give  royal  entertainments  and  each  season  pay  $1,000  a 
piece  for  their  boxes  at  the  opera  house. 

All  Argentina  is  increasing  in  population,  but  its  most  rapid 
growth  is  in  Buenos  Aires.  The  city  is  growing  in  numbers 
at  the  rate  of  100,000  a year,  and  by  the  end  of  the  century  it 
is  claimed  that  it  will  have  a population  of  more  than  a million. 
One-fifth  of  all  the  people  in  Argentina  live  in  Buenos  Aires. 
The  city  grows  like  a green  bay  tree,  and  increases  more  rapidly 
than  any  city  in  the  United  States.  Long  ago  it  began  to  take 
in  all  available  adjoining  territory.  When  it  had  its  great  boom, 
just  before  the  panic,  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  region  about 
were  laid  out  in  lots;  within  five  years  the  real  estate  transac- 
tions amounted  to  more  than  $400,000,000.  Enough  land  has 
been  built  upon  to  make  a large  city,  and  that  a very  solid  one. 
The  houses  are  not  detached  as  ours  are:  they  are  built  in  blocks 
of  four  acres,  each  surrounded  by  narrow  streets.  Some  of  the 
sections  are  so  crowded  that  in  them  the  people  swarm  like 
bees.  In  others  there  are  wide  stretches  of  bare  fields. 

The  city,  as  laid  out,  is  eleven  miles  from  end  to  end,  and  a 
ride  around  it  is  as  long  as  from  Washington  to  Baltimore. 
Within  its  boundaries  there  is  twice  as  much  ground  as  in  Paris, 
and  it  has  a greater  number  of  stores  and  business  establishments 
in  proportion  to  its  population  than  any  town  in  the  United 
States.  You  find  stores  everywhere;  there  are  miles  and  miles 
of  them.  The  reason  is  that  there  are  few  stores  outside  the 
limits.  It  has  not  the  great  suburban  population  of  our  cities 
whose  wants  are  supplied  by  their  home  towns,  but  who  come 
into  the  city  to  do  business. 

Buenos  Aires  is  a Spanish  city,  and  the  biggest  Spanish- 
speaking city  in  the  world.  It  is  almost  twice  as  large  as  Mad- 
rid and  three  times  the  size  of  Barcelona.  Its  Spanish  character, 
however,  belongs  to  the  past,  and  it  is  fast  developing  a munici- 
pal individuality  of  its  own.  It  will,  no  doubt,  always  retain  the 
Spanish  language,  but  its  people  will  be  a mixture  drawn  from 
S.  A.— 20 


310  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  four  quarters  of  the  earth.  To-day  more  than  half  of  its 
citizens  are  foreign  born  and  the  city  itself  is  fast  losing  much 
of  its  Spanish  character.  The  houses  on  the  new  avenues,  that 
have  been  recently  erected,  are  more  like  those  of  Paris  than 
Madrid.  The  Avenida  de  Mayo  is  a wide  boulevard,  with  an 
asphalt  pavement;  the  buildings  upon  it  make  one  think  of  the 
Champs  Elysee,  and  there  is  a total  absence  of  the  flat,  low  one- 
story  structures  of  old  Spain.  It  is  the  same  with  many  of  the 
business  blocks  that  have  been  erected  since  Buenos  Aires  be- 


AN  AVENUE  IN  BUENOS  AIRES 


gan  its  rapid  growth.  Most  of  the  buildings,  however,  are 
low.  For  a century  or  so  there  was  not  a two-story  house  in  the 
city.  The  town  was  laid  out  in  the  Spanish  style,  in  rectangular 
blocks  along  narrow  streets.  It  was  founded  away  back  in  1535 
by  a Spanish  freebooter,  Pedro  de  Mendoza,  who  named  it 
<(  Buenos  Aires.”  The  words  mean  (<good  air,”  but  Mendoza 
did  not  name  it  thus  because  air  here  is  especially  good.  It  is 
not  so,  for  the  death-rate  is  high.  More  than  a thousand  peo- 
ple died  here  in  the  month  preceding  my  visit,  and  the  annual 
average  of  deaths  is  more  than  thirty-three  to  the  thousand. 


BUENOS  AIRES 


31  1 

Just  now  the  fog  over  the  city  is  as  thick  as  that  of  London. 
For  a long  time  the  air  was  so  bad  that  lockjaw  was  almost  epi- 
demic. It  takes  a boy’s  bare  feet  and  a rusty  nail  to  produce 
lockjaw  in  the  United  States.  Until  recently  one  could  catch  it 
here  by  simply  opening  the  mouth.  No,  Buenos  Aires  did  not 
get  its  name  from  its  abundant  and  life-supplying  ozone.  Like 
Cortez,  Pizarro,  and  the  other  adventurous  Spanish  cut-throats  of 
his  time,  Mendoza  had  a profound  regard  for  the  saints,  and  so 
he  named  the  city  after  the  Virgin  Maria  de  Buenos  Aires,  whose 
aid  he  had  invoked  for  his  expedition  before  leaving  Spain. 

In  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  Asuncion,  Para- 
guay, and  Cordoba,  a day’s  ride  by  train  west  of  here,  were  far 
more  ambitious  towns  than  Buenos  Aires.  The  latter  long  re- 
mained a settlement  of  mud  huts,  although  lots  three  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  front  and  three  miles  deep  could  be  bought  for  a 
suit  of  old  clothes.  In  the  seventeenth  century  some  of  the  cen- 
tral blocks  of  the  city  were  sold  for  a white  horse  and  a guitar. 
To-day  the  average  value  of  land  per  square  yard  is  over  $20 
and  the  house  property  is  said  to  be  worth  more  than  $300, 000, 00a 
in  gold. 

When  our  Declaration  of  Independence  was  signed  there  were 
only  37,000  people  in  Argentina  and  only  3,000  in  Buenos  Aires. 
The  colony,  however,  began  to  make  money  out  of  negroes  and 
chiefly  out  of  negro  slaves.  At  that  time  the  best  families  lived 
in  thatched  huts,  but  they  ate  their  meals  from  dishes  of  solid 
silver,  being  waited  upon  by  their  own  negroes.  When  John 
Quincy  Adams  was  President,  Buenos  Aires  had  22,000  people. 
During  General  Grant’s  first  term  in  the  White  House  it  had 
less  than  178,000,  and  when  Cleveland  began  his  second  adminis- 
tration, its  citizens  numbered  535,000  ; while  in  1899  it  had  753,- 
000.  Its  great  growth  has  thus  been  within  the  past  thirty 

years. 

Buenos  Aires  is  a curious  city,  made  up  of  shreds  and  patches 
both  as  to  architecture  and  to  man.  As  to  man,  it  has  people  of 
nearly  every  race  : 300,000  of  its  residents  are  Italians,  90,000  are 
Spanish,  about  30,000  French,  and  the  remainder  are  Germans, 
English,  or  Argentines.  The  Argentines  proper  do  not  probably 
number  over  150,000,  and  they  are  the  only  real  citizens,  in  the 
sense  that  they  vote  and  take  part  in  the  government.  The 
others  prefer  to  keep  out  of  politics  and  the  army,  for  the 


312  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

foreign  resident  here  has  every  property  right  that  the  citizen 
has,  with  none  of  his  military  obligations. 

Most  of  the  foreigners  stick  to  their  old  nationalities,  although 
some  of  them  would  not  dare  to  go  home  to  vote.  The  Argen- 
tine is  one  of  the  few  countries  that  have  no  extradition  treaties; 
criminals  from  everywhere  have  consequently  taken  advantage  of 
! this,  and  it  is  said  that  Buenos  Aires  has  more  men  living  under 
assumed  names  than  any  city  in  the  world.  This  is  especially 
so  in  regard  to  the  emigrants  from  Italy,  and  also,  until  recently, 
in  regard  to  not  a few  from  our  own  country. 

A year  or  so  ago,  it  is  said  that  four  Americans  were  chat- 
ting together  in  one  of  the  cafes  of  Buenos  Aires,  when  three  of 
the  crowd  for  some  reason  began  to  jeer  at  the  fourth.  He 
grew  angry  and  said  : (<  Well,  gentlemen,  you  may  sneer  at  me  if 
you  please,  but  I want  you  to  understand  that  there  is  at  least 
one  county  in  the  United  States  that  I dare  go  back  to  without 
fear  of  the  sheriff.  I know  none  of  you  can  say  as  much." 
This,  however,  is  rather  hard  on  the  Americans.  Years  ago,  be- 
fore we  lost  our  merchant  marine,  our  citizens  were  among  the 
most  prominent  of  the  foreign  residents  of  Buenos  Aires,  and 
those  who  have  been  coming  in  within  recent  years  are  men  of 
high  standing.  Some  have  large  interests,  and  at  present  the 
Americans,  as  a class,  are  much  respected. 

Architecturally,  Buenos  Aires  is  a patchwork  city.  I have 
rooms  high  up  in  one  of  its  biggest  hotels.  The  rooms  are  also 
high  in  price.  They  cost  me  eight  Argentine  dollars  per  day.  I 
am  on  the  fourth  floor,  and  from  my  balcony  I can  see  over 
most  of  the  roofs  of  the  city.  Step  out  of  the  window  with  me 
and  take  a bird’s-eye  view  of  Buenos  Aires.  Below  and  about  us 
lies  a vast  ragged  plain  of  one  and  two-story  houses,  whose  flat 
roofs  are  made  of  brick  or  brick  tiles  and  occasionally  of  corru- 
gated iron.  Some  of  the  buildings  rise  high  above  the  others; 
the  whole  looks  like  a lot  of  great  store-boxes  jumbled  together 
along  narrow  canons,  the  streets.  Away  to  the  south  you  see  a 
few  smokestacks,  the  masts  of  ships,  and  some  large  warehouses; 
that  is  Barracas,  where  meat,  wool,  and  hides  are  prepared  for 
shipment  to  America  and  Europe.  To  the  north  there  is  a spot 
of  green  woods;  that  is  Palermo  Park,  where  society  goes  to  ride 
and  drive  every  afternoon;  you  may  see  a thousand  carriages 
there  at  a time. 


BUENOS  AIRES 


3r3 


To  the  east,  beyond  that  thicket  of  masts  and  spars  lining  the 
docks,  extending  on  and  on  until  they  meet  the  horizon,  are  the 
muddy  waters  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  which  connect  Buenos 
Aires  with  the  outer  world.  The  river  here  is  twenty-eight  miles 
wide;  in  the  misty  air  we  cannot  just  now  see  its  opposite  banks. 
Buenos  Aires  is  only  forty-eight  feet  above  the  waters  of  the  At- 
lantic; back  of  and  beyond  the  city  extends  the  vast  plain  of  the 
valley  of  the  river,  as  rich  here  as  is  the  valley  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. It  is  cut  up  by  railroads  and  dotted  with  farms,  some  of 
which  support  cattle  and  sheep  in  herds  of  thousands. 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  BUENOS  AIRES 

As  you  look  more  closely  at  the  roofs  below,  you  see  that 
many  of  them  surround  little  patios  or  courts.  There  are  no 
gardens  in  front  or  behind  the  houses,  and  the  masses  here  live 
without  plants,  flowers,  or  trees.  There  are  no  chimneys;  the 
Argentines  think  it  unhealthful  to  have  fires  in  their  living 
rooms,  though  one  sees  here  and  there  a black  stove-pipe  coming 
up  through  the  roof;  but  these  pipes  are  connected  with  the 
kitchens,  not  with  the  parlours. 


3U  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

But  what  are  the  open  spaces  we  see  in  the  city  of  roofs  ? 
These  are  the  plazas  or  parks,  of  which  there  are  twelve  in  the 
city,  varying  in  size  from  four  to  twelve  acres.  The  one  near 
the  river  is  the  Plaza  de  Mayo;  it  is  the  ecclesiastical,  govern- 
mental, and  financial  centre  of  the  city.  Upon  it  face  the  cathe- 
dral, the  president’s  house,  congress,  the  courts,  and  the  bolsa  or 
stock-exchange.  Into  it  run  some  of  the  chief  business  streets, 
and  from  it,  to  the  westward,  extends  the  Avenida  de  Mayo,  the 
wide  boulevard  of  which  the  people  here  are  so  proud,  and  at 


PLAZA  DE  MAYO 


the  other  end  of  which  the  future  capitol  building  of  the  repub- 
lic is  to  stand.  The  avenue  has  already  cost  $10,000,000  in  gold, 
and  will  eventually  be  one  of  the  grand  streets  of  the  world. 
The  section  of  the  city  through  which  it  passes  was  in  early 
Spanish  days  lighted  with  oil  made  of  mare’s  grease;  now  elec- 
tricity gives  the  same  locality  its  illuminating  rays. 

The  Plaza  de  Mayo  covers  eight  acres;  the  finest  building 
upon  it  is  the  cathedral,  which  looks  more  like  a government 
structure  or  an  art  gallery  than  a church.  It  covers  more  than 


BUENOS  AIRES 


315 


an  acre  and  will  hold  9,000  people.  It  is,  however,  seldom  full, 
although  Buenos  Aires  is  the  largest  Catholic  city  in  the  world. 
Ninety-six  per  cent  of  all  the  people  in  Argentina  are  Roman 
Catholics,  but  the  men  are  not  ardent  churchgoers,  and  the 
women  who  worship  at  the  cathedral  do  not  usually  fill  it. 
There  are  in  the  city  twenty-four  other  Catholic  churches,  be- 
sides four  which  are  Protestant.  Protestants  are  freely  tolerated; 
one  of  their  churches  is  the  American  Methodist  Church,  which 
is  generally  well  attended,  being  situated  within  almost  a stone’s 
throw  of  the  cathedral,  in  the  business  heart  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 

How  the  Nabobs  of  Buenos  Aires  look,  act,  and  live — A Nation  of 
Gamblers  who  Spend  Millions  a Year  on  Races,  Lotteries,  and  the 
Stock-Exchange- — Behind  the  Scenes  at  the  Clubs  — A Night  at 
the  Opera  — Well-Dressed  Women  and  Impudent  Young  Men  — 
Curious  Customs  of  Courtship  and  Marriage — Odd  Features  of 
Family  Life. 

igh  life  in  Buenos  Aires!  High  life  in  the  Paris  of  South 
America,  where  millionaires  are  thicker  than  blackber- 
ries in  August  and  honey-lipped  heiresses  swarm  like 
bees  in  midsummer!  We  may  see  it  out  driving  in  the  park  of. 
Palermo,  or  meet  it  every  afternoon  on  the  Calle  Florida.  We 
may  take  chances  with  it  every  Sunday  at  the  races,  or  we  may 
stare  at  its  diamonds  every  night  during  the  opera  season.  If 
we  have  good  introductions  we  may  go  inside  its  mansions  and 
attend  its  fine  dinners,  or  perhaps  take  part  in  a game  at  the 
Jockey  Club,  where  fortunes  often  change  hands  in  a night. 

The  races  are  one  of  the  social  institutions  of  the  Argentine 
capital.  The  president  and  his  cabinet,  the  officers  of  the  army 
and  navy,  everyone,  in  fact,  who  pretends  to  be  anybody,  attends 
them,  and  this  notwithstanding  that  they  are  always  held  on 
Sundays.  The  chief  race  track  is  owned  by  the  Jockey  Club. 
The  club  is  the  most  celebrated  in  South  America;  its  initiation 
fee  is  three  times  that  of  any  club  in  New  York,  and  its  annual 
dues  amount  to  a larger  sum  than  many  an  Argentine  young 
man  earns  in  a year.  Its  club-house  will  compare  favourably  in 
furniture  and  finishings  with  almost  any  palace  of  Europe.  The 
races  are  managed  by  this  club,  and  all  the  money  won  and  lost 
passes  through  its  hands.  The  club  takes  a certain  percentage 
of  all  the  bets  made,  and  when  I tell  you  that  last  year  more 
than  $13,000,000  were  publicly  wagered  you  can  see  that  a small 
percentage  gives  the  club  a big  income. 

(3TG; 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


317 


There  are  many  fine  horses  in  Argentina,  and  the  races  are 
usually  well  contested.  The  day  I attended  them  eighty-seven 
horses  were  entered,  and  the  grand  stand  contained  more  than 
ten  thousand  people.  A building  covering  about  half  an  acre  was 
devoted  to  pool-selling,  and  a stream  of  men  went  to  and  from 
the  windows  of  the  building  to  make  their  bets  or  to  receive 
their  winnings.  Every  one  was  betting.  Men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren put  their  money  on  every  race,  and  as  the  horses  neared 
the  winning-post  the  crowds  in  the  grand  stand  went  wild.  Ten 


PALM  AVENUE,  PALERMO 


thousand  people  then  rose  to  their  feet,  some  climbing  on  the 
benches,  and  now  and  then  a yell  went  up  from  many  throats. 
The  crowd  was  well  dressed;  it  was  composed  of  both  men  and 
women  and  of  all  classes.  The  choice  seats  were  reserved  for 
the  members  of  the  Jockey  Club  and  their  friends,  and  a cheaper 
section  was  patronized  by  the  poor. 

The  Portenos,  as  the  citizens  of  Buenos  Aires  are  called, 
spend  their  Sunday  afternoons  up  to  three  o’clock  at  the  races. 
The  races  begin  at  12  o’clock  and  end  at  3 o’clock.  At  about 


318  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

3:30  p.  m.  you  will  see  the  carriages  leaving  the  race  track  for 
Palermo  Park.  This  is  a beautiful  forest  and  garden,  covering 
850  acres,  situated  on  the  northern  edge  of  the  city,  beyond  the 
Recoleta  cemetery  and  park,  adjacent  to  one  of  the  finest  resi- 
dence sections.  It  was  formerly  the  estate  of  the  dictator  Rosas, 
who  beautified  it.  It  has  fine  drives,  magnificent  palm  trees,  and 
winding  lakes,  with  here  and  there  a cafe. 

It  is  on  Sundays  and  on  Thursdays  that  all  fashionable  Buenos 
Aires  comes  to  Palermo,  and  on  some  Sunday  afternoons  as 
many  as  a thousand  carriages  and  ten  thousand  pedestrians  are 
to  be  seen  there  at  one  time.  Carriages  are  used  by  all  classes. 
The  people  of  the  Latin  races  are  fond  of  show,  and  the  Span- 
iard, the  Italian,  and  the  Argentine  of  even  moderate  means 
will  starve  himself  during  the  v/eek  in  order  that  he  may  take  a 
drive  on  Sunday.  The  rich  are  proud  of  their  horses  and  car- 
riages, and  some  of  the  turnouts,  with  coachmen  and  footmen  in 
livery,  are  magnificent.  The  harness  is  often  plated  with  silver 
and  gold,  and  horses  are  of  as  choice  a stock  as  you  will  find  in 
Hyde  Park  or  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Young  bloods  sit  on 
high  drags  and  drive  with  gloved  hands.  On  the  backs  of  other 
vehicles  you  see  stiff-backed  little  tigers  sitting  or  gorgeously 
dressed  footmen  standing.  Cavalry  officers  in  uniform  gallop  by, 
and  boys  canter  along  on  ponies. 

At  five  o’clock  on  Sunday  afternoons  the  crowd  is  the  densest. 
It  is  then  the  height  of  the  day  at  Palermo,  and  the  sight  is  one 
for  the  gods  and  men,  especially  for  men,  for  most  of  the  car- 
riages are  open,  and  the  majority  of  the  women  who  sit  in  them 
are  of  that  beautiful  type  which  is  seen  at  its  best  in  Buenos 
Aires.  Rosy  faces,  with  luscious  lips  and  large  luminous  eyes,  look 
out  at  you  from  nearly  every  carriage  that  passes.  The  pictures 
are  well  framed.  There  are  no  dark  mantas  or  head  shawls,  such 
as  they  have  in  Peru ; there  is  no  prudish  modesty,  no  dropping 
of  the  eyes  or  blushing.  These  are  live  flesh-and-blood  girls,  not 
nuns.  They  are  girls  who  are  not  afraid  to  look  a man  in  the 
face  and  who  are  evidently  able  to  care  for  themselves,  although 
their  fathers  and  mothers  by  Spanish  custom  keep  them  secluded. 
They  do  not  walk  alone  on  the  streets,  and  one  seldom  sees  them 
out  of  doors,  except  in  carriages.  They  are,  however,  on  dress 
parade  every  afternoon  at  the  windows,  and  as  you  look  up,  if 
the  street  is  clear,  you  may,  perhaps,  be  rewarded  with  a smile. 


(320) 


ARGENTINE  LADY  AND  HER  CHILDREN 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


321 


Buenos  Aires  is  a theatre-going  city.  It  has  twenty-six  houses 
of  amusement,  at  which  its  people  spend  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  $2,000,000  a year.  The  most  fashionable  of  all  is  the  Italian 
Opera,  where  the  boxes  for  the  season  cost  $1,000  in  silver  and 
upward,  and  where  some  of  the  greatest  singers  of  the  world 
take  part.  The  boxes  are  usually  taken  for  the  season,  and 
an  Areentine  <(  swell  ” would  rather  sell  his  shirt  and  wear  a 
<(  dickey  ” than  give  up  his  place  in  a box  at  the  opera.  The 
orchestra  or  pit  is  next  in  price  to  the  boxes.  A seat  there  costs 
sixteen  dollars  a night,  or  a little  more  than  five  dollars  in  gold, 
and  the  seats  in  the  <(  peanut  gallery  ® are  as  low  as  twenty-five 
cents. 

During  my  last  night  at  the  opera  the  Italian  star  Tomagno 
sang  in  (( Wilhelm  Tell,”  but  the  audience  interested  me  even 
more  than  the  singing.  There  were,  I should  say,  at  least  3,000 
people  present,  and  every  man  and  woman  in  the  boxes  and 
orchestra  was  in  full  dress.  There  was  not  a man  in  a business 
suit  save  in  the  upper  galleries.  The  women  were  without  bon- 
nets, and  most  of  them  had  on  low-necked  gowns,  with  arms 
bare,  unless  when  covered  with  long  white  gloves  reaching  as 
far  as  the  biceps.  The  dresses  were  more  costly  than  those  one 
sees  at  a White  House  reception.  There  were  jewels  everywhere. 
There  was,  I venture  to  say,  a good  half-peck  of  diamonds  on 
the  feminine  part  of  the  audience;  diamonds  as  big  as  the  end  of 
my  little  finger  hung  from  the  lobes  of  pink  ears,  clusters  of  dia- 
mond flowers  rested  in  beds  of  lace  upon  voluptuous  bosoms,  and 
combs  set  with  diamonds  fastened  the  well-groomed  tresses  of 
Argentine  beauties  on  the  crowns  of  their  shapely  heads.  There 
were  pearls  as  large  as  marrowfat  peas,  necklaces  of  them, 
joined  at  the  centre  with  great  rubies  or  emeralds.  There  were 
also  sapphires  and  opals  and  gold  galore. 

Most  of  the  women  were  pretty,  representing  as  many  varieties 
of  complexion  and  feature  as  you  will  see  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  in  New  York.  I did  not  notice  a predominance  of 
the  Spanish  type ; so  many  of  the  rich  Argentine  families  have 
intermarried  with  foreigners  that  their  women  are  as  cosmopolitan 
in  appearance  as  our  own.  Some  of  them  were  homely,  and  not 
a few,  I say  it  with  hesitation,  owed  much  of  their  good  looks 
to  their  make-up.  Powder  and  paint  are  artistically  used  in 
Buenos  Aires  and  there  is  no  capital  city  where  the  professional 


322  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

hairdressers  and  face  enamellers  have  a better  trade.  I have 
been  told  that  these  people  have  their  regular  clientele  of  rich 
women,  who  come  regularly  to  be  made  up  before  they  set  out 
for  their  drive  in  the  park  or  an  evening  at  the  opera.  On 
opera  nights  you  have  to  engage  your  enameller  beforehand,  or 
wait  in  the  anteroom  for  hours  before  he  will  call  out  “Next. ” 

However  this  may  be,  the  effect  at  the  opera  is  magnificent. 
The  opera  house  in  Buenos  Aires  is  very  large,  the  largest,  I 
believe,  in  South  America.  It  has  five  galleries,  the  lower  three 
of  which  are  of  boxes.  When  the  curtain  is  up  the  men  behind 
the  ladies  in  the  boxes  are  practically  out  of  sight,  and  from  the 
pit  where  I sat  in  my  sixteen-dollar  seat,  I could  see  above  me 
the  busts  of  the  ladies  resting  as  it  seemed  on  the  red  plush 
railing  of  the  galleries.  There  were  hundreds  of  these  busts 
running  tier  upon  tier,  making  a flesh-and-blood  beauty-show  far 
superior  to  the  London  waxworks  and  well  worth  coming  to 
Argentina  to  behold.  In  addition  to  the  ordinary  boxes,  there  is 
a special  gallery  in  the  opera  house  called  the  “cazuela,”  where 
ladies  can  come  without  escorts,  and  in  which  men  are  not  al- 
lowed. Seats  in  this  cost  from  two  to  five  dollars  each;  and  the 
gallery,  I noticed,  was  well  patronized. 

The  opera  at  Buenos  Aires  is  rather  a social  event  than  a 
musical  entertainment.  I would  fail  if  I attempted  to  describe 
the  importance  with  which  dress  is  regarded.  In  my  simple 
American  way  I first  thought  of  not  going  in  evening  dress,  but 
fearing  that  my  morning  costume  of  black  might  possibly  attract 
attention  I put  on  an  evening  suit.  It  was  warm,  however,  and 
I did  not  wear  gloves.  On  entering  the  house  I found  that 
every  man  in  the  orchestra  except  myself  had  on  “kids,”  and 
everyone  carried  in  his  hand  a tall  silk  hat.  Between  the  acts 
the  men  rose  to  their  feet,  clapped  on  their  hats,  and  then  saun- 
tered to  and  fro  through  the  house.  Some  stood  at  their  seats 
with  their  opera  glasses  to  their  eyes  and  stared  at  the  women, 
regardless  of  whether  they  knew  them  or  not;  but  the  greater 
part  walked  to  the  entrances  to  the  aisles  and  stood  there  in  knots, 
with  their  hats  on,  and  feasted  their  eyes  upon  the  women.  It 
was  a sort  of  cannibal  feast,  but  the  paint  and  enamel  on  most 
of  the  faces  were  so  thick  that  it  drew  no  blood  to  the  surface. 

And  this  brings  me  to  a custom  of  the  young  dandies  of  the 
Argentine  capital,  who  make  a business  of  standing  on  the  street 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


323 


and  greedily  staring  at  ladies  as  they  go  by.  In  no  other  city 
does  this  rudeness  prevail  to  such  an  extent  as  in  Buenos  Aires. 
It  is  most  common  on  the  Calle  Florida,  which  is  the  Broad- 
way or  Regent  Street  of  the  Argentine  capital.  It  is  the  fash- 
ionable shopping  street,  its  stores  being  those  of  the  chief 
jewellers,  confectioners,  milliners,  tailors,  and  fashionable  restau- 
rateurs. The  street  has  not  more  than  twenty  feet  of  roadway 
between  its  narrow  sidewalks. 

Every  afternoon  from  four  to  six  o’clock  a line  of  carriages 
moves  up  one  side  of  the  Calle  Florida  and  down  the  other. 
It  may  grow  dark,  but  up  to  six  p.  m.  the  line  is  solid,  and  you 
may  here  see  a thousand  prancing  horses  moving  to  and  fro. 
The  carriages  are  usually  open,  and  in  them  sit  the  most  fashion- 
able ladies  of  the  city.  They  drive  here  every  evening,  merely 
because  it  is  the  fashion,  and  the  young  men  stand  on  the  street 
and  stare  at  them  as  they  pass.  Every  afternoon  the  Calle 
Florida  is  thronged  with  knots  of  young  men  who  have  come 
out  for  this  purpose.  They  are  well  dressed  and  well  groomed. 
They  carry  canes  and  wear  gloves;  they  smoke  cigarettes  as  they 
look  about  them.  From  time  to  time  they  make  comments  on 
the  women  who  go  by,  and  not  infrequently  say  things  which 
are  absolutely  indecent.  Not  long  ago  one  of  them  ventured  a 
remark  to  an  American  girl  who  was  passing  along  the  street. 
What  he  said  was  an  insult,  and  the  young  American  rewarded 
him  with  a slap  across  the  mouth  which  almost  knocked  him  to 
the  ground.  The  ordinary  Argentine  girl  would  have  pouted  and 
passed  on.  Within  the  past  year  or  so  the  Argentine  police  have 
been  trying  to  stop  this  insulting  of  women,  and  now  any  woman 
who  makes  a complaint  can  have  her  insulter  taken  at  once  to 
the  city  authorities  for  trial. 

We  hear  a good  deal  said  of  <(  Young  America”  and  his  im- 
pudence. The  boys  of  Argentina  are  even  more  precocious  than 
those  of  the  United  States.  An  Argentine  father  seldom  whips 
his  son,  and  the  children  generally  have  much  more  liberty  south 
of  the  equator  than  north  of  it.  The  Sunday  School  is  almost 
unknown,  and  the  ordinary  ideas  of  morality  are  so  loose  that 
children  are  brought  up  in  a most  pernicious  way. 

As  to  lying,  this  is  common  among  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren. The  polite  lie  is  met  with  everywhere;  it  is  even  encour- 


324  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

aged,  and  a father  will  sometimes  say  about  his  little  girl  or  boy 
in  admiring  tones:  (<  Why,  hear  that  child  lie!”  or  <(  How  well  it 
does  lie”;  <(  Why,  I could  not  lie  better  than  that  myself.”  They 
have  the  Spanish  ideas  of  honour.  You  might,  for  instance,  call 
an  Argentine  a liar  and  he  would  think  nothing  of  it;  he  might 
even  consider  it  a compliment;  but  if  you  should  call  him  a 
coward,  he  could  not  consistently  rest  until  he  had  knocked  you 
down  or  stabbed  you  under  the  fifth  rib. 

The  young  Argentines  learn  wickedness  at  a much  younger 
age  than  our  boys'.  Many  of  them  have  depraved  minds  at  fif- 

teen and  they  then  begin  to  pose  as  men.  Bo}^s  talk  politics 
before  they  are  out  of  knee-pants.  Nearly  every  college  has  its 
political  factions.  The  students  organize  revolts  against  the  pro- 
fessors, thus  training  themselves  to  get  up  revolutions  against  the 
government  when  they  grow  older. 

The  well-to-do  young  Argentine  is  not  brought  up  to  any 
business.  He  has  a prejudice  against  trade  and  work  and  wants 
a profession.  It  is  the  fashionable  thing  to  study  law  and  thus 
get  the  title  of  doctor,  even  though  the  young  man  may  not  ex- 
pect to  practice. 

The  Argentine  children  learn  the  languages  easily,  and  many 
young  men  speak  both  French  and  English.  The  girls  of  the 
richer  classes  are  usually  good  linguists,  but  outside  the  languages 
they  know  but  little.  I doubt  whether  you  will  find  a score  of 
young  girls  in  Buenos  Aires  who  have  any  such  education  as  is 
given  at  our  first-class  women  colleges. 

As  to  family  life,  it  is  hard  to  learn  much  about  that  in  the 
high  circles  of  the  Argentine.  Each  family  is  run  as  a close 
corporation,  and  when  a son  is  married  he  usually  brings  his  wife 
home,  when  sometimes  an  addition  is  built  to  the  house,  and  the 
newly-married  couple  moves  into  it.  The  sexes  are  not  kept 
apart  as  much  as  in  other  parts  of  South  America  before  mar- 
riage. Still  there  is  no  such  indiscriminate  calling  and  courting 
as  in  the  United  States.  If  a young  man  pay  any  attentions  to 
a young  woman  he  is  understood  to  mean  business,  and  if  he 
go  to  her  house  often  a marriage  proposal  is  expected  to  fol- 
low. When  he  calls  he  does  not  see  his  sweetheart  alone,  and  he 
is  not  permitted  to  be  with  her  unless  the  family  or  some  part 
of  it  is  present. 


HIGH  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


325 


After  marriage  there  is  more  freedom,  but  even  then  women 
are  closely  watched.  I am  told  that  wives  are  usually  faithful  to 
their  husbands  and  that  the  percentage  of  good.,  married  women 
is  greater  in  Buenos  Aires  than  in  many  of  the  capitals  of  Eu- 
rope. One  seldom  hears  of  a scandal  in  connection  with  a wife 
or  a mother  of  a high  Argentine  family.  The  country  is  Catho- 
lic and  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a divorce,  although  there  are 
separations.  The  women  are  proud,  and  their  regard  for  their 
children  often  keeps  them  from  making  a fuss  about  things 
which  otherwise  they  could  not  pardon.  As  to  the  men,  there 
are  many  good  husbands,  but  there  are  not  a few  who  have  the 
Parisian  idea  of  such  things,  and  who  seem  to  model  their  lives 
after  that  of  the  heroes  of  French  novels.  The  percentage  of  ille- 
gitimate births  is  very  high. 

The  women  are  the  religious  element  of  Buenos  Aires.  They 
maintain  the  churches,  attend  mass  regularly,  and  manage  all 
the  charities  of  the  country.  One  of  the  chief  charitable  organ- 
izations which  they  control  is  supplied  with  funds  from  the 
national  lottery,  a certain  percentage  of  its  receipts  being  given 
them.  This  lottery  has  drawings  weekly  and  the  sums  realized 
are  enormous.  The  women  take  charge  of  the  profits  and  spend 
the  money  for  charity.  Such  actions  must  have  a bad  effect 
upon  the  character  of  the  people.  You  cannot  make  a child 
think  that  it  is  bad  to  gamble  when  his  mother  handles  ill-gotten 
gains,  no  matter  for  what  good  object.  The  result  is  that  the 
Argentines  are  a nation  of  gamblers,  and  Buenos  Aires  to-day  is 
as  badly  affected  by  its  lottery  as  was  New  Orleans  when  the 
Louisiana  raffle  was  in  operation. 

There  are  drawings  now  every  week,  the  grand  prize  at  times 
being  upwards  of  $100,000  in  silver,  and  at  Christmas  time 
$1,000,000.  Last  year  $28,000,000  worth  of  lottery  tickets  were 
sold.  There  are  lottery  offices  in  every  block;  you  meet  lottery 
ticket  peddlers  on  every  corner,  and  one  is  not  safe  from  them 
even  at  the  doors  of  the  churches. 

Among  the  gambling  institutions  are  the  ball  alleys,  the  races, 
and  the  stock-exchange.  In  the  lotteries,  the  ball  alleys,  and  on 
the  race  course,  I see  by  a statement  in  a Buenos  Aires  paper, 
that  $47,000,000  were  lost  and  won  last  year,  while  the  sales 
at  the  stock-exchange  footed  up  the  enormous  amount  of  $436,- 
S.  A. — 21 


326  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

000,000  in  gold.  The  total  foreign  trade  of  Argentina  during 
that  year  was  less  than  $120,000,000  in  gold,  showing  that  three- 
fourths  of  the  business  of  the  exchange  was  done  on  worthless 
paper.  There  is  a great  deal  of  private  gambling  in  Buenos 
Aires.  There  are  card  tables  at  the  clubs  where  a <(  hacienda M 
may  be  lost  in  a night,  and  there  are  many  small  gambling  hells 
that  carry  on  their  business  contrary  to  law  under  the  very 
eyes  of  the  police. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


LOW  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 

How  the  Poor  Live  — The  Conventillos  of  Buenos  Aires,  and  their  Miser- 
able Inhabitants  — Work,  Wages,  and  Trades  Unions  — The  Chances 
for  Women — Strange  Ways  of  Washing  and  Ironing  — Among  the 
Gauchos  or  Cowboys  of  the  Pampas  — A Peep  into  their  Homes  — 
Their  Terrible  Duels  — «I  Feel  like  killing  Some  One!» 

here  is  low  life  as  well  as  high  life  in  the  Argentine  Re- 
public. The  poor  are  in  the  majority.  Argentina  has 
thousands  of  people  who  live  in  zinc  sheds,  and  there 
are  courts  in  Buenos  Aires  in  which  men,  women,  and  children 
swarm  as  thickly  as  they  do  in  any  tenement  section  of  New 
York  or  London.  Rents  are  very  high  and  only  the  rich  are 
able  to  have  houses  to  themselves.  The  well-to-do  live  in  flats 
and  apartments,  and  the  poor  are  crowded  into  (<  conventillos. w 

Conventillos  are  a peculiarity  of  Buenos  Aires.  They  are  im- 
mense buildings  of  one  or  two  stories  running  around  narrow 
passages  or  courts,  and  containing  scores  upon  scores  of  one- 
roomed  homes.  Each  room  is  the  living  place  for  one  or  more 
families,  and  in  most  cases  it  has  so  many  inmates  that  the 
washing  and  cooking  must  be  done  outside  in  the  court.  These 
one-roomed  homes  are  without  ventilation,  except  from  the  front. 
They  have  no  light  but  that  which  comes  through  the  doorway, 
and  their  sanitary  condition  is  beyond  description  bad. 

You  find  conventillos  in  ever}7  part  of  Buenos  Aires.  They 
exist  even  under  the  shadow  of  the  government  mansions.  Some 
are  in  the  by-streets  of  the  business  sections,  and  there  are  others 
back  of  the  palaces  of  nabobs,  built  against  the  houses  of  men 
whose  incomes  run  into  more  dollars  per  week  than  many  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  conventillos  receive  in  a year. 

Take  one,  for  instance,  which  I lately  visited.  It  is  situated 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Grand  Opera  House.  I had  just  come 
from  the  box-office,  where  I saw  a score  of  men  paying  sixteen 

(327) 


328  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

dollars  a seat  for  the  night’s  entertainment,  and  where  one  man 
had  paid  down  a thousand  dollars  for  his  family  box  for  the  sea- 
son. The  conventillo  was  entered  by  a door  from  the  street. 
Passing  through  this,  I came  into  a court,  six  feet  wide  and 
about  two  hundred  feet  long,  walled  with  a two-story  building  of 
many  rooms,  each  about  twelve  feet  wide  and  not  more  than 
twelve  feet  deep.  There  was  a gallery  along  the  outside  of  the 
second  story,  and  the  two  opposite  walls  were  so  close  together 
that  the  stone-flagging  of  the  court  oozed  with  moisture.  It  re- 
ceived but  little  sun,  and  there  was  a damp,  green  mould  on  the 
stones  not  trodden  by  the  tenants’  feet.  Opening  upon  the  court 
from  each  room  was  a door,  which  furnished  the  only  light  and 
ventilation  for  the  rooms.  Just  outside  each  room  in  the  court 
was  a bowl  of  charcoal  which  served  as  the  cook-stove  of  the 
family  within.  Upon  some  of  the  fires  rested  pots  of  steaming 
soup,  with  ragged  Italian  women  bending  over  them.  In  one 
doorway,  there  was  a portly,  gray-haired  Indian  dame  cleaning  a 
cabbage,  and  next  to  her  I saw  a lean  Spanish  woman  cooking 
macaroni.  Farther  on,  a girl  mother,  of  perhaps  fourteen,  was 
washing  clothes,  while  under  the  tub  her  dirty  baby  sprawled  on 
the  stone  and  squalled.  Most  of  the  people  in  the  court  were 
Italians,  and  many  of  the  women  were  very  young. 

The  Italians  of  Buenos  Aires  mature  at  an  early  age,  and  you 
may  read  any  day  in  the  papers  the  records  of  marriages  of 
girls  of  fourteen.  Large  families  are  the  rule,  and  several  women 
of  the  court  had,  I was  told,  as  many  as  ten  children.  Father 
and  mother,  grown-up  sons  and  daughters,  children  and  babies, 
all  sleep  in  a space  not  over  fifteen  feet  square.  Many  rooms 
have  only  one  bed,  which  is  occupied  by  the  parents  and  as  many 
children  as  can  crowd  in;  the  remainder  of  the  family  must  sleep 
on  the  floor.  There  is  no  way  of  heating  the  rooms.  They  were 
all  dirty  and  more  like  caves  than  the  homes  of  human  beings. 
Notwithstanding  this,  the  children  in  them  seemed  healthy,  al- 
though I heard  one  mother  crooning  away  over  a sick  baby,  her 
sad  lullaby  mingling  with  the  strains  of  the  singers  who  were 
practising  a comic  opera  in  the  great  theatre  over  the  way. 

The  death-rate  of  Buenos  Aires  is  not  as  high  as  that  of 
some  of  the  European  cities.  The  climate  of  the  Argentine  is 
excellent,  the  last  general  census  taken  showing  that  there  were 
then  living  two  hundred  and  thirty-four  persons  who  were  over 


LOW  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


329 


a hundred  years  old.  As  I stated  before,  a large  part  of  the 
population  is  made  up  of  Italian.  Spanish,  and  French  immigrants, 
the  Italians  predominating.  The  latter  have  an  annual  birth  rate 
of  sixty  per  thousand,  which  is  fifty  per  cent  higher  than  the 
average  birth-rate  of  Europe. 

The  real  work  of  Argentina  is  done  by  the  Italians  and  the 
Spaniards,  furnished  by  the  stream  of  immigrants  which  is 
always  flowing  to  the  lower  parts  of  eastern  South  America. 
Within  the  past  twenty-four  years  about  2,000,000  emigrants 
have  been  imported  from  southern  Europe,  and  to-day  out  of  the 
4,000,000  people  in  the  Argentine  Republic  it  is  estimated  that 
more  than  one  in  every  four  is  a foreigner. 

Although  the  English  furnish  the  money,  the  railroads  are 
built  by  the  Italians,  and  I am  told  they  make  splendid  workmen. 
They  are  thrifty,  economical,  and  generally  happy.  They  send  a 
large  part  of  their  wages  back  to  Italy,  just  as  our  Irish  do  with 
their  wages  in  the  United  States.  The  Italians  are  also  the 
small  farmers.  They  work  the  wheat  lands,  many  of  them  tak- 
ing tracts  to  farm  on  shares.  They  are,  as  a rule,  thrifty  and 
accumulative,  and  many  who  came  here  poor  have  amassed  for- 
tunes. The  fact  that  an  Italian  lives  in  squalid  quarters  is  not 
a sure  sign  that  he  is  poor,  for  in  these  very  conventillos,  it  is 
said  that  there  are  Italians  who  have  nice  little  properties,  but 
who  prefer  to  save  and  starve  now  that  they  may  be  richer 
hereafter. 

The  Italians  are  the  masons,  the  carpenters,  and  the  mechan- 
ics of  the  Argentine.  They  are  very  apt  at  trades  and  will  work 
for  much  lower  wages  than  will  the  mechanics  of  the  United 
States;  moreover,  they  can  live  more  cheaply  than  our  people; 
many  of  them  have  but  one  real  meal  a day,  which  is  eaten 
after  they  have  dropped  work  in  the  evening.  They  take  only  a 
cup  of  tea  and  a piece  of  dry  bread  on  rising,  and  this  lasts  them 
until  dinner,  although  they  may  have  another  cup  of  tea  at  noon. 

As  to  the  markets,  meats,  with  the  exception  of  pork,  are  ex- 
ceedingly cheap,  but  other  things  are  high.  Mutton  brings  al- 
most nothing,  and  beef  costs  about  half  its  value  in  the  United 
States.  Very  little  pork  is  used  by  the  labouring  classes.  Most 
families  buy  their  bread,  as  the  poor  have  no  facilities  for  bak- 
ing. Licensed  bakers  supply  the  demand,  and  the  bread-man  on 
horseback,  his  horse’s  panniers  filled  with  rolls,  goes  from  house 


33°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  house  daily.  The  bread  of  Buenos  Aires  is  excellent.  Corn- 
meal  is  not  used,  although  hominy  is  a staple.  Onions  are  every- 
where eaten,  and 
a frequent  sight 
on  the  streets  is 
the  onion  peddler, 
who  goes  along 
carrying  strings  of 
onions,  the  bulbs 
being  braided  into 
straw  so  that  they 
can  be  thrown 
over  the  two  ends 
of  a pole  and  thus 
carried  across  the 
shoulders.  In 
the  country  the 
labourers  live  al- 
most entirely  on 
meat,  and  al- 
though they  could 
have  garden 
patches,  they  sel- 
dom care  to  under- 
take the  trouble 
of  attending  to 
them. 

The  different 
classes  of  labour- 
ers have  their  own  unions,  but  they  do  not  often  strike.  I have 
been  told  by  railroad  men  that  they  seldom  have  a difficulty  with 
their  employes.  There  is  no  great  variation  in  wages  from  year 
to  year,  and  so  far  strikes  are  almost  unknown.  Most  of  the 
employers  prefer  to  get  their  work  done  as  far  as  possible  by 
contract  or  by  the  piece.  This  is  especially  so  in  railroad  con- 
struction, where  all  excavation  is  done  by  the  cubic  yard.  One 
man  will  hire  a gang  of  men  to  help  him,  and  he  will  be  re- 
sponsible to  the  contractors  or  to  the  officials. 

Upon  all  the  large  “ estancias  * or  farms  the  proprietor  has  a 
store  from  which  he  furnishes  goods  to  his  hands,  deducting  a 


BREAD-VENDOR 


LOW  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


33  1 


certain  amount  from  their  wages  to  pay  for  them.  The  railroads 
often  carry  provision  cars  with  them  and  sell  eatables  and  other 
goods  to  the  workmen  at  a little  over  cost  price;  they  furnish 
wine  and  clothes  as  well  as  all  sorts  of  provisions,  from  London 
jam  to  hard-tack. 

Neither  in  the  country  nor  in  the  cities  do  the  labouring  classes 
seem  to  care  as  much  for  comforts  as  our  labourers  do.  A gal- 
vanized iron  shed  forms  the  usual  home  of  the  farmer,  and  a 
quarter  in  a conventillo  that  of  the  city  workman.  An  American 
mechanic  would  not  live  in  this  way,  and  I do  not  think  he  could 
make  enough  money  here  to  enable  him  to  buy  the  comforts  he 
has  at  home.  The  Argentine  labourer  has  to  pay  more  for  his 
clothing,  and  he  has  nothing  like  the  educational  or  social  ad- 
vantages of  his  North-American  brother.  There  is,  in  fact,  no 
chance  in  South  America  for  North-American  labourers. 

As  to  the  women,  those  of  the  lower  classes  have  a much 
poorer  chance  than  in  the  United  States.  There  are  but  few 
female  clerks  in  the  stores.  Women  are  not  generally  employed 
in  the  government  departments,  and  the  female  professional  type- 
writer of  the  Argentine  has  yet  to  be  born.  In  the  government 
telegraph  offices  there  are  a few  women  operators,  and  at  the 
<(  central n of  the  telephone  there  are  girls  to  answer  the  calls. 
They  are  not  <(  hello w girls,  however.  The  Argentine  man  when 
he  calls  up  w Central, w yells  out  (<  oila w to  get  the  young  lady’s 
attention,  and  often  talks  to  her  a moment  before  he  begs  her 
to  have  the  graciousness  to  connect  him  with  his  butcher,  baker, 
or  candlestick  maker. 

There  are  a number  of  women  teachers  in  the  schools  of  the 
Argentine  Republic.  School-teaching  is,  perhaps,  the  most  re- 
spectable profession  a young  woman  can  have.  The  normal 
schools  are  well  equipped,  possessing  some  of  the  finest  buildings 
in  the  Republic.  They  are  found  to-day  in  nearly  every  prov- 
ince, and  many  young  Argentine  girls  are  being  trained  in  them. 
The  native  Argentine  women  make  excellent  teachers,  but  there 
are  not  enough  schools  for  them  in  the  cities  in  which  the  nor- 
mal colleges  are  located,  and  it  is  not  considered  proper  for  young 
women  to  go  away  from  home  to  teach.  The  result  is  that  most 
of  them  remain  at  home  and  stand  in  the  door  or  lean  out  of  the 
windows  day  after  day  gazing  at  the  passers-by.  This  is  the 
chief  occupation  of  the  middle-class  girls  of  the  Argentine  cities. 


332  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  Argentine  Republic  is  yet  in  its  infancy  as  a manufac- 
turing nation,  and  the  females  employed  in  its  factories  are  com- 
paratively few.  There  are  some  glove-makers,  cap-makers,  and 
umbrella-sewers,  who  are  paid  from  fifty  cents  to  a dollar  of  our 
money  per  day.  There  are  some  good  seamstresses  and  millin- 
ers. In  private  families  women  are  used  as  house  servants,  but 
about  the  hotels  and  boarding-houses  all  of  the  scrubbing  and 
cleaning,  besides  much  of  the  chamber  work,  is  done  by  men. 

Even  the  washerwoman  of  the  Argentine  has  not  the  chance 
her  sister  labourer  has  in  the  United  States.  All  families  have 


BUENOS  AIRES  — WASHING  CLOTHES  ON  THE  BEACH 


their  washing  and  ironing  done  out  of  the  house;  and  it  is  cus- 
tomary for  one  set  of  women  to  do  the  washing  and  another  to 
do  the  ironing.  The  washerwoman  never  irons  and  the  ironer 
never  washes.  The  corrugated  zinc  washboard  is  unknown ; the 
clothes  are  usually  taken  to  the  banks  of  a stream  and  rubbed 
with  the  hands  on  flat  stones  or  upon  boards  in  the  public  wash- 
houses, where  for  a small  sum  per  week  a woman  can  get  a 
place  at  the  trough  and  the  use  of  hot  and  cold  water.  There 
are  many  families  who  do  nothing  but  iron,  one  woman  employ- 


LOW  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


333 


ing  from  five  to  ten  helpers,  and  paying  each  about  fifty  cents 
gold  per  day.  The  ironer  usually  arranges  with  his  or  her  cus- 
tomers for  both  washing  and  ironing,  and  lets  out  the  washing  to 
the  washers.  The  prices  charged  at  the  hotels  are  by  the  piece; 
I have  to  pay  thirteen  cents  for  linen  shirts,  ten  cents  for  night 
shirts,  three  cents  for  handkerchiefs,  and  twenty  cents  per  pair 
for  pajamas.  These  prices  are  reduced  to  gold. 

A discussion  of  the  poor  of  the  Argentines  would  be  incom- 
plete without  mention  of  the  “gaucho”:  the  gaucho  is  the  native 
Argentine  of  the  country;  he  is  the  cowboy  of  the  pampas,  a 


GAUCHO  AND  HIS  HORSE- ARGENTINA 

man  whose  counterpart  is  hardly  to  be  found,  a peculiar  prod- 
uct of  southern  South  America.  The  gaucho  is  a cross  between 
the  Spaniard  and  the  Indian;  if  any  part  of  his  blood  predomin- 
ates it  is  that  of  the  Indian,  although  the  Spanish  traits  are  al- 
ways to  be  seen.  The  gaucho  will  not  work  in  the  cities;  he 
will  not  farm,  nor  does  he  like  to  tend  sheep,  but  he  is  at  home 
on  horseback,  and  is  always  ready  to  ride  over  the  plains  and  to 
tend  or  drive  cattle.  He  is  a nomad,  and  prefers  odd  jobs  to 
steady  work. 


334  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

You  may  see  the  gaucho  anywhere  outside  of  the  cities,  and 
wherever  you  see  him  he  is  the  same.  His  complexion  is  usually 
of  a light  coffee  colour.  He  is  in  fact  the  American  Indian 
bleached,  save  that  he  has  a full  black  and  rather  heavy  beard. 
His  eyes  are  coal  black,  bright  and  fierce,  and  his  form  is  short 
and  wiry.  He  dresses  curiously;  his  black  head  is  usually  cov- 
ered with  an  old  skull  cap,  or  a soft  slouch  hat.  On  the  upper 
part  of  his  body  hangs  a blanket,  often  striped  in  bright  colours, 
through  the  centre  of  which  his  head  is  thrust.  Another  blanket 
is  wound  about  his  waist,  pulled  between  the  legs,  and  fastened 
at  the  back.  Out  of  this  lower  blanket  white  drawers,  often 
edged  at  the  bottom  with  lace,  extend  down  to  his  ankles,  while 
bright  red  or  blue  slippers  may  cover  his  feet.  He  usually  wears 
a belt  of  chamois  leather,  which  may  be  decorated  with  silver 
buckles  and  bangles. 

The  gaucho  is  fond  of  silver  and  decorates  the  trappings  of 
his  horse  with  it  when  he  possibly  can.  He  has  the  best  horse 
he  can  buy,  steal,  or  borrow,  and  his  saddle  is  often  adorned  with 
silver  stirrups,  while  his  bridle  bit  is  sometimes  silver-plated  and 
usually  of  great  size.  He  is  never  without  a horse,  although  he 
may  be  a beggar,  Argentina  being  one  of  the  few  countries 
where  the  beggars  really  go  about  on  horseback. 

You  see  the  homes  of  the  gauchos  scattered  over  the  pampas. 
Let  me  describe  one.  It  is  a mud  hut,  fifteen  feet  square,  and 
so  low  that  you  have  to  stoop  to  enter  the  door.  The  floor  is 
the  earth,  and  there  is  no  furniture  except  the  skulls  of  bullocks, 
which  are  used  for  seats,  and  a table  made  of  a board  or  two,  which 
the  gaucho  has  probably  stolen  from  some  rich  landowner  near 
by.  The  only  table  furniture  to  be  seen  is  a couple  of  tin  pans. 

The  gaucho  does  not  need  cooking  utensils.  He  roasts  his 
meat  on  a spit  over  the  fire  outside  his  door,  basting  it  as  he 
does  so  with  the  juice  which  he  catches  in  the  pan.  When  the 
roast  is  done  he  cuts  it  off  a slice  at  a time.  In  eating  he  does 
not  use  a fork,  but  holds  one  end  of  the  slice  in  his  hand  and 
clinches  the  other  between  his  teeth,  while  he  draws  his  knife 
across  within  one-sixteenth  of  an  inch  of  his  nose  at  every  bite. 
His  favourite  dish  is  came  concuero,  which  is  meat  cooked  with 
the  skin.  The  meat  is  wrapped  up  tightly  in  the  skin,  and  thus 
cooked  over  the  coals.  The  skin  keeps  in  the  juices,  and  the 
result  is  delicious. 


LOW  LIFE  IN  ARGENTINA 


335 


The  gaucho  is  hospitable.  If  you  come  to  his  hut  he  will 
take  you  in  and  give  you  the  best  he  has,  although  he  may  in- 
tend to  stab  you  in  the  back  as  soon  as  you  have  gone  a few 
rods  away.  He  cares  little  for  blood-letting,  and  is  always 
ready  to  fight.  He  is  never  without  his  knife,  and  is  seldom 
backward  in  using  it.  Sometimes  he  acts  like  a demon,  stabbing 
without  cause.  I heard  of  a gaucho  who  came  along  one  day 
where  a woman  was  working  with  her  little  boy  beside  her.  As 
the  gaucho  saw  the  boy  he  said : (<  I feel  like  killing  some  one ! ” 
And  with  that  he  took  up  the  boy  and  stabbed  him.  I heard  of 
another  gaucho  who  shot  a boy  with  no  more  provocation. 
Neither  of  these  men  was  hanged  for  the  murders. 

The  gauchos  often  have  duels,  their  favourite  method  of  fighting 
being  with  knives.  The  duellists  on  some  such  occasions  have 
their  left  legs  tied  together,  each  kneeling  upon  the  right  knee,  so 
that  they  face  each  other.  Each  man  is  now  given  a poncho  or 
blanket,  which  he  throws  over  his  left  arm  and  uses  as  a guard, 
and  a knife  which  he  holds  in  his  right  hand.  At  a word  from 
the  principal  the  two  men  begin  to  stab  at  each  other  and  they 
cut  away  until  one  or  the  other  drops  dead. 

And  do  such  men  have  wives  and  families  ? Yes,  and  they 
are  said  to  be  affectionate  husbands  and  good  fathers  when  sober, 
although  often  cruel  when  drunk.  Almost  all  drink  to  excess  at 
times;  you  see  the  little  saloons  kept  up  by  their  custom  scattered 
everywhere  over  the  pampas.  They  like  to  play  billiards  and 
gamble;  nor  do  they  think  it  wrong  to  cheat  at  cards;  indeed, 
the  man  who  can  cheat  without  being  found  out  is  considered  an 
excellent  player.  They  make  good  soldiers,  and  I am  told  that 
many  of  the  bravest  men  in  the  Argentine  army  have  been  gau- 
chos. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


ODD  ARGENTINE  CUSTOMS 

The  Hospitality  of  the  People  — Presents  with  Strings  to  them  — The 
Cemeteries  and  Funeral  Customs — How  the  Dead  are  filed  away 
in  Pigeon-Holes  — Rented  Graves  — Curious  Gastronomic  Tastes  — 
Snails  and  Armadillos  as  Tidbits — The  Greatest  Meat-Eaters  in 
the  World  — How  Turkeys  are  Sold  — Milkmen  who  Cannot  Water 
their  Milk. 

he  Argentines  are  generous,  after  the  Spanish  style.  That 
is,  they  will  make  you  a grandiloquent  presentation  of 
anything  you  admire,  expecting  that  you  will  politely 
refuse  to  accept.  This  is  the  custom  of  all  Spanish-America.  At 
Santiago  I dined  one  day  with  a millionaire  friend  of  the  President 
of  Chile,  a gentleman  of  high  education  and  culture;  the  dinner 
was  given  at  his  home  in  the  suburbs  of  Santiago,  a palace  sur- 
rounded by  a garden  conceded  to  be  one  of  the  finest  in  South 
America.  As  I walked  through  the  house  with  its  owner  I could 
not  help  but  admire  it.  He  at  once  offered  it  to  me,  and  that 
in  such  a cordial  manner  that  I feared  for  a moment  he  might 
be  in  earnest.  When  I reflected,  however,  that  the  property 
would  bring  at  auction  at  least  $100,000,  I felt  there  might  be  a 
mistake,  and  refused  it  with  thanks. 

This  habit  sometimes  causes  the  giver  trouble  when  he  has 
social  relations  with  a foreigner  who  does  not  understand  him. 
Not  long  ago  a Spanish  don  was  travelling  down  the  west  coast 
of  South  America  on  a steamer  with  a charming  young  Ameri- 
can girl  as  a fellow-passenger.  The  don  was  married,  but  the 
young  lady  was  beautiful,  and  when  she  admired  a poodle  which 
he  was  carrying  with  him,  he  at  once  placed  it  at  her  disposal, 
bowed  to  the  floor,  and  told  her  it  was  hers.  He  expected  that 
she  would  thank  him  and  refuse ; but  to  his  surprise  she  thanked 
him  and  accepted  the  gift.  Now  the  don  was  carrying  this 
poodle  to  his  wife,  who  was  as  jealous  as  Spanish  women  usually 
(336) 


ODD  ARGENTINE  CUSTOMS 


337 


are.  He  had  especial  orders  to  bring  it  home  safe  and  sound, 
and  as  the  American  girl  was  going  to  the  same  town,  he  knew 
that  serious  complications  would  arise  if  he  did  not  recover  the 
dog.  Before  he  left  the  ship  he  was  compelled  to  ask  one  of  his 
friends  to  explain  to  the  young  lady  that  his  offer  was  not  in- 
tended to  be  taken  in  earnest,  and  that  he  hoped  she  would  send 
back  the  poodle,  as  it  belonged  to  his  wife. 

I have  heard  of  many  similar  incidents  of  the  failure  of  such 
polite  lies  and  cheap  generosity.  One  relates  to  a young  naval 
lieutenant  who  has  since  risen  to  be  an  eminent  officer  on  one  of 
our  American  men-of-war.  It  was  during  his  salad  days  when 
he  was  in  South  America  on  a coasting  tour  that  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  an  Argentine  don.  One  day  he  asked  the  latter 
for  a match,  and  was  handed  in  reply  a beautiful  gold  cigar- 
lighter.  The  lighter  must  have  been  an  expensive  one,  for  it 
was  set  with  diamonds.  Our  young  lieutenant  admired  it,  and 
the  don,  putting  his  hand  across  his  heart,  told  him  it  was  his 
and  at  his  disposal.  The  young  lieutenant,  then  green  to  Span- 
ish ways,  as  grandiloquently  accepted  it,  and  the  Argentine  don 
was  too  amazed  to  explain.  At  least,  he  never  asked  that  it  be 
returned,  and  I dare  say  the  American  naval  officer  has  it  among 
his  trophies  to-day. 

Some  of  the  oddest  customs  of  the  Argentines  are  those  relat- 
ing to  the  dead.  In  the  lands  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  funerals 
are  grand  functions,  and  the  average  funeral  costs  more  than  a 
wedding.  The  undertakers  advertise  their  wares  as  our  mer- 
chants advertise  their  dry  goods.  Each  undertaker  gives  his 
prices;  he  tells  you  just  what  you  can  get  for  your  money;  he 
lauds  his  peculiar  burial  caskets,  and  the  virtues  of  his  patent 
embalming  fluids,  and  states  that  he  can  take  charge  of  the  de- 
parture of  the  deceased  with  all  fashionable  accompaniments. 

Funerals  are  first,  second,  and  third  class;  the  first  class  are 
worth  seeing.  I shall  never  forget  one  which  passed  me  in  the 
business  section  of  Buenos  Aires.  It  was  the  funeral  of  a 
steamship  manager,  who  had  evidently  been  a man  of  wealth. 
The  hearse  was  as  big  as  a baggage  waggon,  and  the  four  black 
Orloff  stallions  which  drew  it  were  as  fine  as  any  in  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  hearse  consisted  of  a black  canopy  resting  on  wheels; 
at  its  corners  were  massive  bunches  of  ostrich  feathers,  each  as  big 
around  as  a half-bushel  measure.  The  roof  was  upheld  by  four 


338  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

black  Ethiopians,  made  of  carved  ebony,  and  the  magnificent 
coffin,  which  rested  on  the  platform  beneath,  was  covered  with 
flowers.  On  the  front  of  the  hearse  sat  a coachman  dressed  in 
black,  and  on  the  back  a footman  in  the  same  sombre  livery. 
Each  of  the  coaches  following  the  hearse  was  drawn  by  black 
horses  and  driven  by  coachmen  in  mourning.  The  mourners  were 
dressed  in  black,  all  wearing  tall  hats  and  black  gloves.  It  was 
indeed  a parade  of  grief. 

An  important  part  of  the  advertising  of  the  Argentine  news- 
papers relates  to  funerals.  The  family  always  inserts  a statement 
of  a death  and  an  invitation  to  its  friends  to  be  present  at  the 
funeral.  They  announce  the  masses,  which  are  given  from  year 
to  year  on  the  anniversaries  of  the  funeral  thereafter,  and  which 
all  friends  of  the  deceased  and  his  family  are  supposed  to  attend 
or  to  leave  their  cards  at  the  church  door.  Here  is  a sample 
funeral  notice : 

Nicolas  I G , Q.E.P.D.  Died  June  22,  1892. 

The  family  invites  the  persons  of  their  friendship  to  attend  the  masses, 
which,  for  the  eternal  rest  of  his  sold,  will  be  celebrated  in  the  Church  of  San 
Miguel  Wednesday,  the  22nd  of  June,  1898,  from  8 to  10  a.  m.  The  family 
will  assist  at  the  mass  at  10  o’clock. 

In  response  to  the  notice,  all  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the 
family  were  expected  to  attend.  There  were  servants  at  the 
church  to  receive  their  cards  as  they  went  in,  and  those  who 
could  not  go  in  person  sent  cards.  As  soon  as  the  family  got 
back  from  mass  they  probably  looked  over  the  cards,  and  the 
person  who  had  slighted  the  deceased,  though  dead  six  years,  un- 
doubtedly incurred  the  resentment  of  the  family.  Every  Argen- 
tine scans  the  newspapers  that  he  may  keep  track  of  the  masses 
said  for  his  dead  friends  and  the  deceased  relatives  of  his  friends 
that  still  live.  The  Argentines  respect  funerals.  Everyone  takes 
off  his  hat,  and  reverently  waits  until  the  hearse  passes,  and  it 
is  etiquette  to  bare  your  head  when  passing  a house  that  has 
crape  on  the  door. 

There  are  fine  cemeteries  in  all  of  the  Argentine  cities. 
Buenos  Aires  has  230  acres  of  them,  not  a large  area  as  com- 
pared with  some  of  our  cemeteries,  but  big  enough  when  it  is 
considered  how  South  American  cemeteries  are  built.  The  cities 
of  the  dead  in  South  America  are  genuine  cities  in  which  the 


ODD  ARGENTINE  CUSTOMS 


339 


deceased  are  as  closely  packed  and  crowded  as  are  the  living  in 
a New  York  flat  The  cemeteries  have  their  paved  streets,  their 
narrow  courts,  and  even  their  tenement  vaults,  where  the  poorer 
dead  are  laid  away  to  rest  for  so  much  per  year  for  a season. 

I have  as  yet,  however,  seen  no  cemetery  so  crowded  as  the 
Recoleta,  the  fashionable  burial-place  of  Buenos  Aires.  It  covers 
thirteen  acres  and  contains  more  than  200,000  inhabitants.  There 
are  enough  corpses  in  it  to  cover  the  ground  two  feet  deep  with- 
out crowding,  and  there  is  a high  stone  wall  about  it  strong 
enough,  I hope,  to  keep  their  ghosts  in.  Inside  this  wall  there 
is  a central  street  or  avenue,  paved  with  marble,  cutting  the 
cemetery  in  two.  As  you  walk  up  this  you  find  at  the  centre  a 
place  where  eight  other  streets  branch  off  at  right  angles.  All 
of  these  streets  are  paved  with  marble  or  mosaic;  and  they  are 
again  cut  by  smaller  streets  dividing  the  cemetery  into  a great 
number  of  blocks. 

In  looking  over  this  beautiful  city  of  the  dead  you  notice  that 
the  houses  resemble  those  of  a city  of  the  living.  They  are  of 
all  sizes  and  conditions,  small  and  big,  grand  and  mean ; the 
palaces  of  the  rich  and  the  tenements  of  the  poor.  Each  house 
is  a vault,  and  contains  from  one  to  many  hundreds  of  inmates. 
Some  of  the  houses  are  in  blocks,  marble  structures  from  eight 
to  fifteen  feet  high  and  from  eight  to  ten  feet  wide,  each  the 
property  of  one  family.  Some  stand  alone  with  only  a crack 
between  their  walls  and  those  of  the  adjoining  vaults. 

All  have  but  one  room  that  can  be  seen,  and  this  room  is  in 
most  cases  of  the  same  shape,  although  furnished  in  different  de- 
grees of  magnificence  and  taste.  It  might  be  called  the  chapel 
of  the  dead.  It  is  four  or  more  feet  square,  and  five  feet  high, 
and  is  entered  by  a door  at  the  level  of  the  street.  At  the  back 
there  is  a marble  slab  or  table  set  in  the  wall  and  upon  this 
sometimes  a coffin  rests.  The  slab  is  covered  with  a lambrequin 
of  fine  lace,  and  in  its  centre  stands  a crucifix  with  the  dying 
Christ  upon  it,  or  perhaps  a waxen  image  of  Mary  the  Mother  of 
our  Lord.  LTpon  some  altars  are  silver  candlesticks,  while  above 
many  lamps  burn  incense  from  one  year’s  end  to  the  other.  On 
the  marble  floor  there  are  flowers,  sometimes  real,  in  the  shape 
of  growing  plants,  sometimes  bouquets  placed  there  fresh  for  the 
day,  and  again  artificial  flowers  and  immortelles  made  to  last  for 
years.  The  doors  of  the  houses  are  often  plate  glass.  All  have 


34°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

locks,  and  not  a few  have  padlocks.  Many  have  lace  curtains,  and 
most  are  covered  with  gratings  of  iron  curiously  wrought. 

But  where  are  the  inhabitants  of  these  houses  ? God  knows, 
I can  only  show  you  where  their  decayed  bodies  are.  Come  with 
me  to  the  cemetery.  Through  the  grating  in  the  floor  of  that 
vault  which  has  been  opened  to  admit  a corpse,  you  can  see 
steps  which  lead  below.  Here  the  proprietor  and  his  family 
sleep  in  the  basement.  Their  beds  are  those  coffins  resting  on 
the  shelves  fastened  one  above  another  to  that  brick  wall,  keep- 
ing them  in  death  as  in  life  together,  while  their  friends  who 
are  still  living  make  their  offerings  and  their  prayers  above.  I 
don’t  know  but  that  this  is  better  than  our  way.  These  people 
lie  here  and  dry  up  within  their  vaults;  we  are  usually  planted 

in  the  earth  to  give  the  worms  a feast. 

In  times  of  epidemics  the  Argentines  bury  their  dead  with 
lime  to  aid  decomposition.  The  southern  cemetery  of  Buenos 
Aires  was  opened  during  the  cholera  epidemic  of  1869  and  closed 
after  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of  1871.  Well,  in  this  time, 
it  received  twenty-two  hundred  corpses,  which  were  cremated 
by  spreading  upon  them  two  hundred  tons  of  quicklime. 

There  are  many  curious  things  to  be  seen  in  Buenos  Aires 
markets.  There  are  all  kinds  of  vegetables  and  meats,  quantities 
of  juicy  snails,  and  hundreds  of  young  armadillos.  Armadillos 
are  among  the  delicacies  of  Argentina.  The  armadillo  is  a tooth- 
less mammal  peculiar  to  South  America,  about  as  large  as  a 

number  eight  derby  hat,  looking  not  unlike  a turtle,  save  that 

its  back  is  more  rounded  and  is  divided  into  plates  or  belts  like 
a coat  of  mail.  It  has  feet  with  claws,  and  a little  head  shaped 
like  that  of  a pig.  It  lives  on  fruits  and  roots,  burrowing  in 
the  earth  and  seldom  going  out  except  in  the  daytime.  Its  flesh 
tastes  like  young  chicken. 

The  Argentines  are  the  chief  meat-eaters  of  the  world.  Out- 
side the  cities  the  people  live  on  mutton  and  beef,  and  any  day 
they  would  gladly  trade  you  a pound  of  meat  for  a pound  of 
bread.  In  Buenos  Aires  the  annual  consumption  is  274  pounds 
of  meat  per  inhabitant,  or,  counting  five  to  the  family,  1,370 
pounds  per  family.  This  is  the  highest  average  of  any  city  in 
the  world. 

The  Argentines  are  very  fond  of  fowl.  It  is  estimated  that 
90,000  hens,  77,000  roosters,  12,000  turkeys,  and  more  than  60,000 


ODD  ARGENTINE  CUSTOMS 


341 


brace  of  partridge  were  eaten  in  Buenos  Aires  last  month.  Live 
chickens  are  peddled  by  hucksters,  who  carry  the  fowls  in  wicker 
crates  slung  over  the  back  of  a horse,  from  house  to  house. 
Turkeys  are  driven  through  the  streets  by  peddlers;  you  pick 
out  the  turkey  you  want  from  the  flock  and  the  owner  will 
catch  it  for  you.  Fish  and  vegetables  are  sold  by  men  who 
carry  them  through  the  city  in  baskets  hung  to  the  ends  of  poles 
suspended  from  their  shoulders. 

The  milk  peddler  on  horseback  has  been  driven  from  the 
main  part  of  Buenos  Aires  and  his  place  taken  by  the  dairy 
companies  that  now  furnish  good  butter  and  milk  on  almost 
every  street.  Until  within  a few  years  ago  butter  was  not  to  be 
had  in  Buenos  Aires;  the  country  had  millions  of  cows,  but  not 
a score  of  good  butter-makers.  Farmers  who  owned  10,000  cows 
imported  their  butter  in  tins  from  the  United  States  or  Europe, 
and  a great  deal  came  to  Buenos  Aires  from  New  York  in  fir- 
kins. A few  years  ago  an  enterprising  Argentine  established  a 
large  dairy  outside  the  city.  He  imported  butter-makers  from 
Switzerland,  and  now  the  city  has  as  delicious  butter  as  can  be 
found  anywhere.  The  butter  is  made  without  salt;  I am  told 
that  sweet  cream  is  used,  but  it  is  so  good  that  you  can  eat  it 
like  cheese.  It  is  sent  to  Brazil  and  other  countries,  and  even 
shipped  to  London. 

The  former  milkmen  carried  their  milk  from  house  to  house 
in  cans  swung  to  the  sides  of  a horse.  Each  can  was  closed  at 
the  top  with  a piece  of  wood,  about  which  an  old  cloth  was 
wrapped  to  keep  it  tight.  This  made  the  milk  so  foul  and  in- 
sanitary that  the  government  objected  to  it.  Milkmen  still  drive 
their  cows  from  house  to  house  in  all  towns  outside  of  Buenos 
Aires.  They  milk  the  cows  for  you  while  you  wait,  and  there  is 
no  possibility  of  them  selling  chalk  and  water  for  the  pure  ex- 
tract. Each  cow  has  its  calf  with  it,  but  the  calf’s  mouth  is  pro- 
tected by  a leather  muzzle,  so  that,  Tantalus-like,  it  is  ever 
within  the  sight  and  smell  of  the  milk,  without  a chance  to  satisfy 
its  hunger  and  thirst. 

S.  A. — 22 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 

Where  they  are,  and  what  they  are  — How  the  Grain  is  Raised  and  Mar- 
keted— The  Wheat  Farmers  are  Italians,  who  live  in  Mud  Huts  — 
Rosario,  the  Chicago  of  South  America  — The  Locusts  that  come 
from  Brazil  in  Swarms  and  eat  up  the  Wheat  — How  they  are  De- 
stroyed— The  Future  of  Wheat-Raising  in  South  America,  and  its 
probable  Competition  with  the  United  States. 

osario  is  the  Chicago  of  South  America.  It  is  the  chief 
wheat-market  of  the  Argentine  Republic.  It  is  situated 
on  the  Parana  river,  about  200  miles  by  land  from 
Buenos  Aires,  at  such  a point  that  ocean  steamers  can  sail  up  to- 
its  wharves  and  load  for  Europe.  It  is  about  as  far  inland  from 
the  Atlantic  ocean  as  Pittsburg,  but  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  and 
Parana  rivers  are  so  deep  that  steamers  drawing  sixteen  feet  of 
water  can  reach  the  city  at  any  time  of  the  year. 

Rosario  has  become  important  only  since  the  wheat-fields 
have  been  developed.  It  was  founded  in  1725,  but  until  a gen- 
eration ago  was  an  obscure  village;  now  it  is  the  second  city  in 
Argentina.  It  grows  faster  than  New  York,  and  within  the  past 
ten  years  has  doubled  its  population,  having  now  about  150,000 
inhabitants.  It  is  well  built,  the  streets  crossing  one  another  at 
right  angles.  It  has  daily  newspapers,  electric  lights,  telephones, 
and  banks,  and  has  recently  been  building  up  a large  foreign 
trade,  especially  in  the  export  of  wheat. 

Rosario  is  so  located  that  the  grain  can  there  be  loaded  on 
the  steamers  more  cheaply  perhaps  than  in  any  other  city  in  the 
world.  The  Parana  river  has  cut  its  channel  down  into  the  soil  to 
such  a depth  that  the  bluffs  upon  which  Rosario  stands  are  about 
seventy  feet  high.  The  bluffs  are  precipitous,  so  that  the  ware- 
houses which  line  them  are  higher  than  the  masts  of  the  steam- 
ers floating  on  the  river.  The  wheat  can  therefore  be  transferred 
from  the  bluffs  to  the  steamers  by  gravity.  Each  warehouse  has 
(342) 


THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 


343 


a long  chute  running  from  the  edge  of  the  bluffs  down  to  the 
river.  The  chute  is  made  in  sections,  and  is  so  arranged  that  it 
forms  a trough  from  the  bluffs  right  into  the  hold  of  the  steamer, 
and  so  constructed  that  it  can  be  lengthened  and  shortened  at 
will. 

The  wheat  is  bagged  at  the  farms:  the  cars  carry  it  to  the 
edge  of  the  bluffs,  and  Italian  labourers  take  the  bags  and  lower 
them  by  means  of  the  chutes.  As  soon  as  a bag  touches  the 
chute  it  begins  to  descend  and  speeds  down  the  inclined  trough 


SOCIAL  GATHERING,  ARGENTINE  FARM  HOUSE 


into  the  steamer.  The  bags  fly  down  one  after  the  other  in 
lively  succession.  At  harvest  time  the  wheat  often  becomes  con- 
gested at  Rosario;  the  railroads  have  more  than  they  can  do  to 
carry  the  crop,  and  almost  all  other  traffic  has  to  be  suspended. 
There  is  no  such  system  of  interchange  of  cars  as  we  have  in 
the  United  States.  One  company’s  cars  cannot  go  over  the 
tracks  of  another:  the  result  is  that  the  wheat  is  piled  up  in 
bags  at  the  stations  and  left  there  until  it  can  be  shipped.  I 
saw  many  such  piles  in  different  parts  of  Argentina.  As  there 


344  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


are  no  barns  and  as  yet  comparatively  few  elevators,  the  market- 
ing of  wheat  is  conducted  on  the  most  wasteful  methods.  The 
weather  is  such  that  nearly  all  the  stock  feeds  out  of  doors  the 
year  round,  only  the  finest  of  blooded  animals  being  kept  under 
cover.  Even  the  working-animals  are  not  fed,  but  have  to  rely 
upon  what  they  can  eat  in  the  pasture  fields.  The  result  is  that 
there  is  no  chance  for  the  farmer  to  store  his  wheat  in  barns, 
and  he  has  to  depend  on  the  railroads  to  get  it  to  the  markets. 
The  land  is  level,  and  there  are  no  grades  to  speak  of,  so  the 
freight  rates  should  be  low. 

I believe  wheat-raising  in  Argentina  is  still  in  its  infancy. 
Twenty  years  ago  the  wise  said  that  grain  could  never  be  grown 
in  the  region  to  any  extent.  The  Argentines  were  then  import- 
ing millions  of  dollars’  worth  of  wheat  every  year,  and  the  farm- 
ers who  were  pasturing  stock  on  what  are  now  the  principal 
wheat-fields  were  eating  flour  shipped  from  the  United  States 
and  Chile.  To-day,  Argentina  commands  to  a large  extent  the 
wheat  trade  of  South  America.  It  plants  3,000,000  acres  every 
year,  and  it  produces  from  30,000,000  to  80,000,000  bushels  a 
season,  according  to  the  weather  and  the  invasions  of  the  locusts. 
For  the  last  seven  or  eight  years  it  has  produced  from  three- 
fifths  to  four-fifths  of  the  wheat  crop  of  this  continent,  and  to- 
day it  is  shipping  wheat  to  the  different  parts  of  South  America 
as  well  as  to  Europe.  When  the  Argentine  has  a good  crop  the 
prices  of  wheat  in  the  European  markets  are  affected  and  our 
farmers  get  less  for  their  wheat  in  consequence.  Within  the 
past  year  or  so  flour  mills  have  been  springing  up,  and  the  Ar- 
gentine has  now  more  than  500  flour  mills,  many  of  which  are 
using  machinery  imported  from  the  United  States.  I had  as  fine 
bread  for  my  breakfast  in  Buenos  Aires  as  one  can  get  at  any 
hotel  in  New  York,  and  as  a rule  the  flour  is  as  good  as  any  we 
produce.  A great  deal  of  Argentine  flour  is  shipped  to  Brazil 
and  Uruguay,  and  some  is  annually  sent  to  Europe. 

The  grain-producing  area  of  Argentina  increases  every  year. 
For  a long  time  it  was  confined  to  the  valleys  of  the  Parana  and 
Uruguay  rivers,  the  only  regions  in  which  it  was  supposed  wheat 
could  be  grown.  Year  by  year,  however,  the  farms  have  been 
pushed  farther  back,  and  now  wheat  is  grown  on  an  area  as 
large  as  that  of  England  and  France  combined.  It  is  said  that 
if  all  the  Argentine  land  known  to  be  good  wheat  land  should 


THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 


345 


be  put  under  cultivation  and  it  should  produce  an  average  of 
only  ten  bushels  per  acre,  the  total  crop  would  equal  one-half 
the  annual  wheat-yield  of  the  world.  The  available  wheat  land 
is  estimated  at  240,000,000  acres,  but  of  this  only  about  six  per 
cent  is  at  present  under  cultivation. 

A new  wheat  region  is  that  of  the  south.  The  Argentine 
Republic  is  longer  than  the  United  States.  I have  gained  a 
practical  knowledge  of  its  extent  during  the  past  few  months, 
for  I have  been  away  down  in  Patagonia.  I have  travelled 
thousands  of  miles  through  tillable  ground  which  has  never  been 
touched  by  the  plough.  Nearly  300  miles  south  of  Buenos  Aires 
there  is  a thriving  seaport,  called  Bahia  Blanca.  There  are  big 
wheat  warehouses  there,  and  the  railroad  men  tell  me  that  they 
have  more  wheat  than  they  can  well  handle.  This  wheat  comes 
from  the  southern  part  of  the  province  of  Buenos  Aires,  a region 
enormous  in  extent  and  almost  all  of  it  good  land. 

Just  south  of  this  region  there  are  vast  pampas  having  scanty 
pasturage,  which  are  usually  looked  upon  as  deserts.  Through 
these  pampas  run  the  two  great  rivers,  the  Rio  Colorado  and  the 
Rio  Negro,  or,  in  other  words,  the  Red  and  the  Black  rivers.  I 
travelled  for  days  along  these  rivers  in  company  with  a party  of 
railroad  surveyors.  The  rivers  are  large  all  the  year  round,  and 
their  fall  is  such  as  to  make  irrigation  possible  for  a wide  dis- 
tance along  them  from  the  Andes  to  the  sea.  In  the  future 
they  will  be  bordered  with  irrigated  wheat-farms,  for  the  land  is 
as  rich  as  in  any  part  of  Colorado,  Utah,  or  California,  and  its 
settlement  and  use  is  only  a question  of  a few  years.  Already 
the  Welsh,  who  have  a colony  much  farther  south,  are  growing 
wheat  by  irrigation;  they  are  now  exporting  about  5,000  tons  a 
year,  and  this  has  all  been  grown  on  what  until  now  was  called 
the  desert  sands  of  Patagonia. 

About  Rosario  and  elsewhere  in  the  valley  of  the  Parana  the 
soil  is  a rich,  black  loam  from  six  inches  to  three  feet  deep,  lying 
on  a bed  of  clay.  All  the  country  for  hundreds  of  miles  above 
and  below  Rosario,  comprising  large  parts  of  the  provinces  of 
Buenos  Aires,  Santa  Fe,  and  Entre  Rios,  is  composed  of  this 
soil,  which  is  good  for  wheat  cultivation. 

I have  never  seen  such  poor  farming  anywhere  as  that  of  the 
Argentines:  our  own  farmers  are  bad  enough,  but  those  of  the 
Argentines  are  infinitely  worse.  In  the  United  States  the  average 


346  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

yield  of  wheat  per  acre,  taking  in  the  entire  country,  is  from 
twelve  to  thirteen  bushels;  that  of  the  Argentine  is  not  over  ten. 
In  England,  where  the  soil  is  more  carefully  studied  and  cared 
for,  the  average  is  twenty-nine  bushels  per  acre,  in  Holland 
twenty-five  bushels,  and  in  France  eighteen. 

Most  of  the  wheat  of  Argentina  is  raised  by  Italian  immi- 
grants, many  of  whom  farm  the  land  on  shares.  They  do  their 
work  in  the  most  slovenly  way.  Much  of  the  wheat  is  sowed  on 
the  ground  as  it  is  first  ploughed,  the  grain  being  dropped 


ARGENTINA  FARM  HOUSE 

among  the  clods.  Other  farmers  drag  brush  over  the  fields,  and 
some  of  the  better  farmers  use  harrows.  The  ploughing  is  done 
with  bullocks,  which  drag  the  ploughs  through  the  furrows  by 
means  of  a yoke  attached  to  their  horns.  No  fertilizer  whatever 
is  used,  and  the  farmers’  only  idea  seems  to  be  to  get  the  wheat 
into  the  ground  and  then  sit  down  and  wait  for  the  crop. 

The  life  of  the  Argentine  farmer  would  never  suit  our  people, 
and  no  American  could  be  happy  here  unless  he  brought  his 
friends  and  associates  along  with  him.  I cannot  describe  the 
dreariness  of  the  life.  In  most  of  the  wheat  countries  there  are 


THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 


347 


no  trees.  The  little  mud  hut  of  the  farmer  stands  out  alone  on 
the  dreary  landscape.  It  has  not  a sign  of  comfort,  and  but  sel- 
dom has  a garden.  The  farmers  have  to  buy  everything;  they 
run  accounts  at  the  nearest  grocery  and  make  annual  settlements 
when  they  sell  their  wheat.  Most  of  them  drink  to  excess,  and 
few  have  any  thought  beyond  the  prospects  and  the  returns  of 
the  wheat  crop.  All  have  large  families,  and  at  the  times  of 
planting  and  harvesting  all  of  them  work.  You  may  see  boys 
of  eight  riding  horses  in  the  field  and  girls  of  nine  and  ten  do- 
ing their  share  of  the  harvest.  The  lack  pf  elevators  and  other 
conditions  demand  that  the  wheat  should  be  quickly  gathered 
and  threshed;  and  at  harvest  time  you  will  not  find  a harder- 
worked  people  anywhere  than  these  farmers.  Women  and  girls, 
men  and  boys,  labour  with  all  their  might  from  sunrise  to  sunset; 
even  when  it  is  moonlight  you  may  see  them  out  under  the  stars 
binding  and  threshing  wheat.  It  is  the  same  in  planting  time, 
but  between  the  seasons  there  is  a long  vacation. 

The  result  of  dependence  upon  wheat  alone  is  that  the  failure 
of  a crop  means  partial  starvation.  There  is  no  reason  for  this, 
for  the  land  is  susceptible  of  growing  a variety  of  things  and,  as 
ploughing  can  be  done  in  every  month  of  the  year,  the  Argen- 
tine farmer  could  araise  everything  he  uses.  As  it  is,  it  is  said 
that  he  can  now  produce  wheat  at  a cost  of  from  twenty-five  to 
thirty  cents  a bushel.  This  may  be  so,  but  taking  the  average 
of  good  crops  and  bad  crops,  it  is  probable  that  wheat  costs  as 
much  in  Argentina  as  in  the  United  States. 

It  is  curious  to  see  how  the  wheat  is  carried  to  the  cars.  It 
is  hauled  in  bullock  carts  on  wheels  about  eight  feet  high.  A 
load,  weighing  several  tons,  is  balanced  between  two  of  these 
wheels,  and  from  a dozen  to  sixteen  bullocks  are  harnessed  in 
double  file  in  front  of  it.  As  the  cart  moves  onward  over  the 
rough  road  the  wheels  give  out  such  a screeching  that  you  think 
there  must  be  a hog-killing  near  by.  If  you  tell  the  farmer  that 
a bit  of  grease  on  the  axles  would  stop  the  noise,  he  replies  that 
it  is  a necessary  evil,  and  that  the  bullocks  will  not  move  unless 
they  hear  it.  Upon  some  of  the  large  farms  modern  machinery 
is  used  to  put  in  the  crops  and  all  threshing  is  commonly  done 
with  European  or  American  threshers. 

Argentina  is  frequently  subject  to  droughts,  and  the  wheat- 
yield  is  great  or  small  according  to  the  weather.  It  is  even 


348  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

more  affected  by  the  locusts,  which  are  by  all  odds  the  worst 
pests  of  the  Argentine  farmer.  The  locust  invasions,  in  fact, 
equal  in  their  destructive  tendencies  the  locust  plague  with  which 
the  Lord  afflicted  Pharaoh.  The  only  difference  is  that 
Pharaoh  had  his  locusts  for  a few  days,  but  the  Argentines  seem 
to  be  having  theirs  as  a regular  thing.  The  plague  does  not  ex- 
tend to  the  south;  but  for  the  past  seven  years  the  wheat  farms 
of  the  Parana  valley  have  been  seriously  damaged  by  it. 

Many  people  believe  that  the  number  of  locusts  will  increase 
from  year  to  year,  and  that  the  country  can  never  be  free 
from  them.  They  argue  this  from  the  location  of  Argentina.  Sit- 
uated as  it  is  in  the  temperate  zone,  it  has  a delightful  climate 
and  a fairly  good  soil.  Just  north  of  it  lies  Brazil,  which  is 
covered  with  tropical  vegetation,  and  vast  areas  of  which  will 
never  be  different  from  what  they  are  now.  In  that  country,  it 
is  claimed,  the  locusts  have  their  breeding-grounds.  They  are 
produced  by  the  million  there  every  year,  and  as  a swarm  thinks 
nothing  of  a flight  of  500  miles,  it  will  be  seen  that  an  army 
starting  out  for  plunder  is  a dangerous  enemy.  It  is  said  that 
the  locusts  annually  fly  to  the  south,  eating  up  everything  as 
they  go;  formerly  they  were  almost  unknown  in  the  region,  be- 
cause the  Argentines  were  then  covered  with  the  coarse  grass  of 
the  pampas.  This  the  locusts  did  not  especially  care  for,  but 
now,  since  they  have  learned  of  the  juicy,  green  wheat,  they 
come  in  myriads  every  year. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  what  a destructive  thing  such  an  inva- 
sion is.  The  locusts  appear  in  swarms  so  great  that  they  darken 
the  sun  if  they  fly  between  you  and  it.  They  alight  on  every- 
thing green  and  begin  eating.  The  branches  of  the  trees  bend 
down  with  their  weight  and  you  can  hear  the  snapping  of  their 
jaws  as  they  crunch  the  leaves.  They  will  strip  an  orchard  in  a 
night.  They  often  eat  the  flesh  from  the  fruit,  leaving  the 
stones  of  the  peaches  hanging  to  the  bare  branches.  They  are 
capricious  in  their  feeding,  for  all  choice  trees  or  those  that  have 
been  especially  cultivated  are  sure  to  be  devoured.  They  will  clean 
the  crops  from  the  fields,  eating  the  grain  down  to  the  ground. 
Sometimes  they  will  take  the  green  wheat  from  one  side  of  the 
road  and  pass  by  that  on  the  other.  Sometimes  they  fly  on  and 
on  for  days  over  rich  fields  to  feed  on  those  beyond.  The  next 
swarm  to  come  may  eat  what  is  left. 


THE  WHEAT-FIELDS  OF  ARGENTINA 


349 


It  seems  incredible  to  think  of  locusts  stopping  railroad  trains, 
but  this  is  actually  the  case  in  Argentina.  They  come  in  such 
numbers  that  they  cover  the  tracks ; the  cars  crush  them ; the 
rails  become  greasy,  and  the  wheels  spin  round  without  touching 
them  and  without  moving  the  cars  onward.  At  such  times  the 
rails  have  to  be  sanded  to  enable  the  cars  to  run.  Locusts  even 
eat  the  paint  off  the  houses. 

As  the  locusts  move  over  the  country  they  lay  their  eggs. 
Each  female  locust  makes  a hole  in  the  ground  and  lays  about  a 
hundred  eggs,  which  a month  or  so  later  hatch  out  one  hundred 
young  locusts,  who  crawl  forth  and  begin  their  march  over  the 
country.  Their  parents,  it  may  be,  have  pretty  well  cleaned  up 
the  crop,  but  the  babies  start  out  to  eat  what  has  grown  up  in 
the  meanwhile.  They  cannot  fly  far  at  first,  but  they  crawl 
along,  consuming  everything  as  they  go.  They  cover  the  ground, 
climb  the  fences,  and  literally  sweep  the  country  of  everything 
green.  In  a few  weeks  they  grow  wings  and  then  fly  onward  to 
other  feeding-grounds.  No  conception  can  be  formed  of  the  enor- 
mous numbers  of  these  locusts.  In  one  year  sixteen  tons  of  eggs 
were  destroyed  in  one  place.  Billions  of  eggs  are  now  being  dug 
out  of  the  ground  and  crushed,  and  to-day  the  Argentine  farmers 
are  fighting  for  their  lives  with  the  locusts.  Thousands  of  dollars 
are  spent  every  year  to  kill  them.  At  the  time  of  an  invasion 
all  the  farmers  must  turn  out  and  destroy  them.  They  are 
caught  in  traps  of  corrugated  iron.  They  are  scooped  up  with 
scrapers  and  killed;  poisons  are  used  and  grass  plants  and  weeds 
are  sometimes  sprinkled  with  arsenic,  kerosene,  and  creosote. 
They  are  caught  in  bags,  driven  into  ditches,  and  killed  in  all 
sorts  of  ways.  But  a mighty  army  of  them  remains  to  occupy 
the  renewed  and  unceasing  attention  of  the  farmer. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 


SHEEP-  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 

The  Country  has  more  than  100,000,000  Sheep,  and  Produces  a Hundred 
Pounds  of  Wool  to  each  of  its  Inhabitants  — A Look  into  the 
GREATEST  PRODUCE  MARKET  IN  THE  WORLD  — How  ARGENTINA  IS  IM- 
PROVING its  Stock  — A Ram  which  Cost  $2,000  and  Bulls  at  $5,000 
Each  — A Visit  to  the  Largest  Meat-Freezing  Establishment  in  the 
World. 

n the  last  chapter  I had  something'  to  say  of  wheat- 
farming in  Argentina.  In  this  I write  of  sheep-  and 
stock-raising  industries,  which  are  infinitely  more  im- 
portant to  the  prosperity  and  wealth  of  the  country.  The  Ar- 
gentine Republic  is  rather  a pasture  field  than  a grain  farm.  It 
has,  indeed,  the  largest  pastures  of  any  in  the  world,  vast  pampas 
which  extend  on  and  on  all  about  you  as  far  as  your  eye  can 
reach.  Not  one  per  cent  of  the  country  is  agricultural;  the  soil 
in  many  parts  is  thin  and  poor,  and  the  rainfall  is  scanty.  Grass 
of  some  kind,  however,  grows  almost  everywhere,  and  more  than 
one-half  of  the  country  is  adapted  to  sheep-raising.  The  extent 
of  the  pasturage  increases  every  year,  while  the  character  of  the 
grasses  improves  with  use;  the  old  coarse  grass  disappears,  and  a 
more  tender  and  nutritious  vegetation  springs  up  in  its  place. 

How  many  sheep  the  pampas  will  support  is  hardly  known: 
the  business,  as  yet,  is  still  in  its  infancy,  although  the  aggregate 
number  is  close  upon  100,000,000,  or  so  many  that,  if  they  were 

equally  divided,  each  family  of  Argentina  would  have  a flock  of 

more  than  100  sheep.  These  sheep  are  scattered  over  the  vast 
farms  of  the  pampas,  generally  according  to  the  wealth  of  the 
proprietor,  but  more  with  regard  to  the  character  of  the  soil.  In 
some  parts  of  Buenos  Aires  province  the  pasture  is  so  good  that 
an  acre  will  support  two  or  three  head,  while  farther  south  four 

acres  is  often  needed  for  a single  sheep.  The  average  of  Buenos 

Aires  province,  which  is  perhaps  the  best  of  all  the  sheep- 
farming country,  is  592  sheep  to  the  square  mile. 

(350) 


SHEEP-  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 


35  1 


Sheep-farming  here  is  conducted  on  a grand  scale.  There  are 
few  small  flocks,  most  of  the  sheep-owners  having  from  20,000 
to  100,000  sheep,  and  several  men  have  as  many  as  1,000,000. 
On  all  the  large  holdings  the  business  is  managed  in  a practical 
way:  each  farm  has  its  overseer  and  accountant,  and  great  care 
is  taken  as  to  the  breeds  and  also  as  to  marketing  the  wool.  The 
sheep  are  watched  by  shepherds  on  horseback,  each  having  the 
care  of  one  or  two  thousand  sheep.  It  is  the  shepherd’s  duty 
to  prevent  his  sheep  from  mixing  with  other  flocks  and  to  see 


FLOCK  OF  SHEEP  IN  THE  ARGENTINES 


that  they  are  free  from  disease.  No  feeding  with  hay  or  grain  is 
needed,  for  the  climate  is  such  that  the  sheep  have  fresh  grass 
from  one  year’s  end  to  the  other.  They  wander  off  in  the 
morning,  grazing  in  the  direction  whence  the  wind  blows,  and 
return  at  night  to  sleep  about  the  hut  of  the  shepherd. 

The  Argentine  shepherds  receive  from  $16  to  $20  per  month, 
which  is  deemed  good  pay  south  of  the  equator,  but  none  too 
much  when  one  considers  the  dreary  life  which  watching  the 
sheep  entails.  The  shepherd’s  home  is  a mud  hut  away  out  on 


352  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  prairie ; his  chief  food  is  mutton,  his  employer  allowing  him 
to  kill  enough  from  the  flock  to  supply  himself  with  meat.  He 
has  plenty  of  land  for  a garden,  but  is  usually  too  lazy  to  break 
up  the  soil  and  plant  the  seed. 

Raising  sheep  for  mutton  is  a new  industry  in  this  part  of 
the  world.  In  the  past  the  profits  came  from  the  wool,  skins, 
and  tallow,  and  to-day  sheep  and  cattle  are  sometimes  killed  for 
their  skins  and  tallow,  the  meat  being  thrown  away.  About  a 
generation  ago  one  of  the  troubles  of  the  sheep-farmer  was  the 
too  rapid  increase  of  his  flock.  They  soon  surpassed  the  capacity 
of  his  pastures,  and  instances  frequently  occurred  of  thousands  of 
the  older  sheep  being  driven  over  the  rocks  into  the  sea.  At 
times  sheep  were  used  for  fuel;  long  ago,  in  the  days  of  Spanish 
rule,  an  edict  was  published  making  it  a crime  to  drive  living 
sheep  into  the  fires  of  the  brick-kilns.  At  present  it  is  estimated 
that  the  Argentine  Republic  raises  one  and  one-half  billion  pounds 
more  meat  every  year  than  she  can  consume,  or  enough  waste 
meat  to  give  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  world  a full 
pound  and  have  a hundred  million  pounds  to  spare. 

It  is  this  surplus  that  has  caused  the  establishment  of  the 
beef-extract  factories,  which  are  so  profitable  in  Uruguay,  and 
also  of  the  frozen-meat  works  of  Argentina,  in  which  beef  and 
mutton  are  so  treated  that  they  will  keep  until  they  can  cross  the 
ocean  and  there  be  thawed  out  and  sold  in  the  meat-shops  of 
Europe. 

How  would  you  like  to  eat  a mutton  chop  two  months  old  ? 
Yet  that  is  what  they  are  doing  in  Europe.  Hundreds  of  tons  of 
frozen  mutton  is  monthly  shipped  from  Argentina  to  London. 
It  is  frozen  so  stiff  that  it  will  keep  a year,  and  at  the  end  of 
that  time,  when  thawed  out,  taste  as  fresh  as  though  cut  from 
sheep  at  the  time  of  killing. 

The  Argentines  have  invested  millions  of  dollars  in  such 
freezing  factories.  In  one  year  their  sales  of  frozen  mutton 
amounted  to  about  $2,000,000,  and  at  present  they  are  shipping 
about  200,000  frozen  carcasses  per  month.  They  have  one  frozen- 
meat  factory  near  Buenos  Aires  which  has  cost  $4,000,000;  it  is 
said  to  be  the  largest  of  its  kind  in  the  world,  and  it  is  now 
killing  and  freezing  about  3,000  sheep  per  day.  The  factory  is 
known  as  the  Sansinena  meat-freezing  establishment.  Through 
letters  from  its  owners  I was  able  to  visit  it.  It  is  situated  at 


SHEEP-  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 


353 


the  south  end  of  the  city,  near  the  wharves,  so  that  the  meat  can 
be  taken  almost  directly  from  its  cold  chambers  to  the  steamers. 
It  has  vast  cattle  yards  and  extensive  sheep  pens.  Its  slaughter 
house  covers  more  than  an  acre';  it  is  of  but  one  story,  having  a 
stone  floor  and  a roof  of  corrugated  iron.  The  floor,  when  I 
entered,  was  covered  with  flowing  blood.  A thousand  live  sheep 
were  in  the  killing  pens,  and  hundreds  which  had  been  skinned 
and  cleaned  were  hanging  from  the  rafters  that  they  might  cool 
before  being  put  away  in  the  freezing  room. 

I stopped  a moment  and  took  note  of  the  killing.  It  is  so 
quickly  done  that  in  four  minutes  by  my  watch  a sheep  passed 
from  active  bleating  life  to  the  condition  of  a carcass,  so  skinned 
and  cleaned  that  it  was  ready  for  the  meat  shop,  had  it  not  been 
that  it  must  first  be  frozen  and  then  sent  over  7,000  miles  of 
water  to  market. 

If  sheep  can  understand  and  feel  for  their  fellows,  the  killing 
must  seem  to  them  frightfully  cruel.  Scores  of  them  await  their 
turn,  looking  on  while  their  brothers  and  sisters  are  butchered. 
In  each  pen  there  were  at  least  fifty  sheep:  along  the  front,  on 
a bench  about  as  high  as  one’s  knee,  lay  rows  of  dying  sheep, 
each  with  two  great  round  holes  in  its  white  throat,  out  of  which 
the  red  blood  ran  down  into  the  stream  of  water  which  flowed 
through  a little  canal  below.  Some  of  the  sheep  were  kicking; 
others  groaned  feebly,  but  I could  see  that  their  deaths  came  al- 
most instantly.  The  killing  is  done  with  a long,  sharp,  double- 
edged  knife.  Two  men  catch  a sheep  in  a pen  and  throw  it 
upon  the  bench;  they  turn  it  upon  its  back  and  hold  it  while  the 
butcher  outside  seizes  it  by  the  chin,  bends  its  head  down,  and 
with  one  thrust  drives  the  steel  through  its  throat,  cutting  the 
jugular  vein.  He  then  goes  on  to  the  next  animal,  which  is  ly- 
ing there  ready  for  him,  killing  sheep  after  sheep  at  the  rate  of 
one  or  more  a minute. 

The  freezing  is  done  in  great  chambers,  each  of  which  will 
hold  60,000  carcasses  at  once.  The  chambers  have  walls  of  wood 
and  sawdust  a foot  thick;  their  ceilings  are  covered  with  coils  of 
pipe,  through  which  flow  ammonia  and  brine  so  arranged  chemi- 
cally that  they  reduce  the  air  of  the  room  to  30 0 below  zero.  It 
takes  three  steam  engines  to  keep  the  pipes  filled,  and  these 
work  on  day  and  night.  The  coils,  when  I saw  them,  were  cov- 
ered with  frost  an  inch  thick,  and  the  chamber  was  intensely 


354  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

cold.  In  it,  hanging  down  from  hooks  with  their  headless  necks 
toward  the  floor,  were  about  a thousand  carcasses  of  freezing 
mutton. 

They  were  almost  ready  for  shipment,  and  when  the  chief 
engineer,  who  acted  as  my  guide,  took  down  one  to  show  it,  I 
found  that  it  would  stand  alone  and  that  its  flesh  was  as  hard 
as  stone.  Within  forty-eight  hours  after  being  put  in  the  freez- 
ing room,  the  carcasses  are  perfectly  hard.  After  they  are  frozen, 
they  are  sewed  up  in  fine  white  muslin  cloths  and  laid  away  in 
cold  storage  to  await  the  next  steamer.  The  average  carcass 
weighs,  when  shipped,  from  30  to  70  pounds,  according  as  it  is  a 
lamb  or  a sheep.  The  sheep  cost  about  $2  a piece,  as  only  the 
best  animals  are  used  for  this  purpose.  Sheep,  as  they  run  in  the 
flock,  can  be  bought,  I am  told,  for  from  50  to  75  cents  each. 
The  freight  to  London  is  one  or  two  cents  a pound,  and  the 
mutton  there  sells  for  ten  cents  and  upwards  per  pound.  Every- 
thing possible  is  being  done  to  reduce  the  cost  of  production. 
.Much  of  the  work  is  done  by  machinery,  and  the  wages  paid  are 
lower  than  those  of  similar*  workmen  in  the  United  States.  The 
average  for  slaughterers,  skinners,  and  general  workmen  is  less 
than  $1.10  a day,  and  the  foremen  each  receive  less  than  $2  per 
day. 

Leaving  the  frozen-meat  factory,  I drove  to  the  (<  Mercado 
Central  des  Frutos,®  the  great  produce  market  of  Buenos  Aires, 
where  wool,  hides,  and  grain  are  sold  in  wholesale  lots.  It  is 
the  largest  market  of  the  kind  in  the  world  under  one  roof.  It 
covers  many  acres,  and  millions  of  pounds  of  wool  are  handled 
in  it  every  year.  It  is  a brick  building  of  three  stories,  lying 
near  the  docks  on  the  Ricachuelo  river,  in  <(  barracas.®  Barracas 
means  warehouses,  and  Barracas  is  that  part  of  Buenos  Aires 
where  the  export  business  of  the  Argentine  is  done.  The  wool 
and  hides  are  taken  from  the  Mercado  Central  to  the  warehouses 
and  there  prepared  for  shipment. 

At  shearing  time  wool  is  sent  here  in  train  and  shiploads. 
Usually  there  are  not  enough  cars  to  haul  the  crop,  and  the  vast 
market  house  is  so  full  that  one  can  hardly  get  through  it.  Its 
three  floors  are  then  packed  with  stacks  of  dirty  greasy  wool. 
Carts  and  waggons  loaded  with  wool  obstruct  all  other  traffic; 
boats  of  wool  crowd  one  another  in  the  river,  many  of  them  be- 
ing unloaded  with  steam  cranes;  and  the  cars  are  run  right  into 


SHEEP-  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 


355 


the  market  itself  and  there  discharged.  Each  man’s  wool  is  put 
in  a pile  by  itself.  It  is  taken  out  of  the  bales  and  piled  loosely 
in  a stack,  so  that  the  buyers  can  easily  examine  it.  In  going 
among  these  piles  you  have  to  be  careful  to  keep  your  clothes 
from  touching  them,  for  the  wool  is  unwashed.  It  is  so  filled 
with  grease  that  when  I thrust  my  hand  into  a pile  of  it,  it  came 
out  shining  as  though  I had  dipped  it  in  vaseline.  The  shippers 
tell  me  that  the  wool  crosses  the  ocean  better  in  its  unwashed 
state,  and  that  it  thus  brings  a greater  profit.  Wool  loses  from 
fifty  to  seventy  per  cent  of  its  weight  in  washing,  and  the  Ar- 


IN  THE  WORLD  S BIGGEST  WOOL  MARKET 

gentine  farmers  prefer  to  sell  it  at  the  lower  rate  and  allow  the 
European  buyers  to  clean  it. 

The  wool  exports  of  Argentina  are  yearly  increasing  in  vol- 
ume; in  i860  the  clip  amounted  to  only  45,000,000  pounds.  In 
1891  it  reached  310,000,000  pounds,  and  in  1897  472,000,000  pounds, 
or  more  than  100  pounds  for  each  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the 
Republic.  The  product  per  sheep  is  also  steadily  growing,  and 
the  average  fleece-yield  to-day  is  one-third  again  as  large  as  it 
was  in  i860. 


356  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Argentina  not  only  surpasses  the  United  States  in  its  number 
of  sheep,  but  it  promises  soon  to  surpass  us  in  the  quality  of  its 
wool  and  mutton.  At  present  our  average  fleece  per  sheep  is 
higher;  but  the  Argentines  are  steadily  improving  their  breeds 
by  crossing  them  with  the  best  rams  that  can  be  imported. 
Every  day  or  so  there  is  an  auction  sale  of  imported  rams  in 
Buenos  Aires,  at  which  fine  animals  bring  phenomenally  large 
prices;  not  long  ago  a California  merino  sold  for  $2,000  in  gold. 
I have  visited  some  of  the  auctions  and  was  surprised  at  the 
quality  of  the  animals;  they  are  superior  to  anything  I have  ever 
seen  in  the  United  States,  most  of  them  coming  from  well- 
known  stock-breeders  in  England.  I am  told  that  shipments  of 
so-called  fine  stock  from  the  United  States  to  the  Argentine  have 
usually  resulted  in  loss  to  our  shippers,  as  the  stock  was  not 
up  to  the  grade  demanded  by  the  Argentine  buyers. 

The  wool  of  the  Argentine  is  improving.  For  a long  time 
there  was  only  coarse  wool,  but  now  all  kinds  of  fine  wool  are 
produced,  and  the  Argentine  merinos  rank  as  high  as  any  in  the 
market.  The  merinos  are,  however,  comparatively  few  here. 
The  chief  breeds  are  the  Leicesters,  Romney  Marsh,  Black-Faced 
Downs,  Oxfords,  and  Cheviots.  There  is  a cross  of  the  Leicesters 
and  the  Merino  which  gives  such  excellent  wool  that  at  the  Paris 
Exposition  of  1889  Argentina  stood  first  as  a wool  exhibitor,  re- 
ceiving one  hundred  and  two  prizes,  of  which  twenty-three  were 
gold  medals. 

Argentina  is  growing  not  only  as  a frozen  meat  and  wool  ex- 
porter, but  also  as  a shipper  of  live  stock.  At  the  Buenos  Aires 
docks  there  are  large  cattle  and  sheep  yards,  filled  with  animals 
awaiting  shipment  to  Europe.  I saw  a large  number  of  ships 
loading  cattle  and  sheep  there  during  a recent  visit.  The  cattle 
are  put  into  open  pens,  made  of  American  pine,  rudely  put  to- 
gether on  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  Each  animal  has  just  enough 
space  in  which  to  lie  down,  and  is  so  tied  that  its  head  is  turned 
away  from  the  water.  The  voyage  is  over  such  warm  seas  that 
no  boarding  in  is  done,  and  the  cattle  are  practically  all  the 
voyage  over  out-of-doors.  Above  the  stalls,  roofing  them  as  it 
were,  are  open  pens,  in  which  sheep  are  carried;  these  pens 
have  no  roofs  whatever,  while  the  sheep  are  packed  in  so  closely 
that  there  is  scarcely  room  for  them  to  move  about.  From 
1,500  to  2,000  sheep  and  from  200  to  500  cattle  are  taken  on  a 


SHEEP-  AND  STOCK-RAISING  IN  ARGENTINA 


357 


single  steamer,  the  result  of  the  overcrowding  often  being  a con- 
siderable loss.  One  of  the  ships  I saw  leaving  for  London  had 
300  steers  and  1,500  sheep,  and  another  was  loading  a cargo  of 
500  steers  and  1,700  wethers.  At  present  more  than  50,000  live 
sheep  and  10,000  live  cattle  are  exported  monthly  to  Europe. 

The  Argentines  are  now  raising  cattle  for  milk  and  improv- 
ing the  common  stock  by  importations  of  fine  animals.  They 
have  several  bulls,  each  of  which  cost  over  $5,000  in  gold,  and 
during  the  past  year  as  many  as  1,600  fine  bulls  have  been  im- 
ported. I have  never  seen  better  animals  than  those  offered  for 
sale  at  the  Buenos  Aires  auctions,  and  the  cattle  on  the  farms 
are  of  a high  average.  No  steer  is  accepted  for  export  which 
weighs  less  than  1,320  pounds,  and  many  of  those  shipped  weigh 
1,600  pounds.  The  average  price  per  beast  paid  by  the  shipper 
is  about  $20  in  gold. 

The  wild  cattle  of  the  Argentine  pampas  of  which  you  have 
read  in  your  geographies  have  long  since  disappeared,  and  ques- 
tions about  them  create  considerable  laughter.  A few  months 
ago  a resident  of  Buenos  Aires  received  a letter  from  a professor 
in  one  of  our  leading  American  colleges  stating  that  he  <(  expected 
to  take  a hunting  trip  to  the  Argentine  and  would  like  to  know 
if  he  could  shoot  the  wild  cattle  near  Buenos  Aires  without  a 
license.®  The  man  evidently  had  not  learned  that  every  beast 
in  Argentina  has  an  owner,  and  that  all  stock  here  is  as  carefully 
watched  and  tended  as  is  our  stock  at  home. 

S.  A.— 23 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


HOW  THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  IS  GOVERNED 

Its  President  and  Congress  — Elections  held  on  Sundays  in  the  Churches 
— Everything  in  the  hands  of  Rings  — Politicians  who  steal 
Millions  — The  Frauds  of  the  National  Banks  — The  Judicial 
System  and  the  Police  — The  Army  and  Navy. 

uring  my  stay  in  Argentina  a new  president  was  elected. 
General  Julio  A.  Roca,  the  Ulysses  S.  Grant  of  the  Ar- 
gentine Republic,  was  again  chosen  as  the  head  of  the 
government.  His  election  did  not  mean  that  he  was  the  choice 
of  a majority  of  the  Argentines,  but  merely  that  he  was  the 
strongest  man  in  the  small  coterie  that  governs  the  country. 
South  American  elections  are  not  like  those  of  the  United  States; 
each  nation  is  only  nominally  a republic,  and  the  people  have 
but  a nominal  right  to  vote.  A few  persons  in  each  country 
really  control  everything  political,  and  the  ballot-boxes  are  stuffed 
to  suit  their  designs  and  conspiracies. 

In  Buenos  Aires  the  elections  are  held  on  Sundays  in  the 
porches  of  the  churches.  Outside  the  church  doors  are  tables, 
around  each  of  which  sit  several  seedy-looking  men,  the  receivers 
of  the  election.  The  ballots  are  of  paper,  and  are  dropped 
through  slits  in  the  boxes.  Many  voters  hand  their  ballots  to 
the  receivers  and  ask  them  to  vote  for  them.  One  man  often 
repeats  his  votes,  giving  another  name  at  each  repetition.  The 
receivers  recognize  the  fraud  and  are  a party  to  it;  at  least  they 
do  not  object. 

The  better  classes  of  the  people  realize  the  impossibility  of  a 
fair  election  and  refrain  from  voting.  As  an  instance  of  how 
things  are  done,  take  the  last  election  for  Senator  in  Buenos 
Aires.  The  city  has  a population  of  800,000.  At  the  election 
there  were  only  2,000  votes  cast,  whereas  reckoning  one  vote  to 
each  family  of  five,  there  must  have  been  160,000  possible  votes. 
The  election  lists  are  scanned  by  the  candidates  beforehand  and 

(358) 


GENERAL.  JULIO  A.  ROCA,  PRESIDENT  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  (359) 


OW  THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  IS  GOVERNED  361 

added  to  or  taken  from  as  is  desired.  Not  long  ago  the  mayor 
of  Olivera  was  looking  over  such  a list  with  a friend  of  mine, 
when  he  came  to  a name  which  we  shall  call  <<Munyoz,))  and  my 
friend  said,  <(  Why,  mayor,  Munyoz  is  dead.  Don’t  you  remember 
we  were  together  last  month  when  the  report  of  his  death  came 
in?”  (<  Oh,  yes,  I remember,”  replied  the  mayor,  <(  but  if  he  is 
dead  that  is  all  the  better:  he  can’t  now  make  any  fuss  as  to 
how  his  vote  shall  be  cast.  ” 

This  corruption  in  politics  extends  to  every  part  of  the  re- 
public. Every  province  has  its  political  factions,  most  of  which 
are  connected  with  the  ring  in  Buenos  Aires  and  take  their  cue 
from  it.  The  government  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  native 
Argentines,  who  are  natural  politicians,  and  work  the  business 
for  what  it  is  worth.  But  the  serious  thing  is  that  the  country 
is  overgoverned.  It  has,  all  told,  only  4,000,000  people,  of  whom 
one-fifth  live  in  the  capital.  Yet  every  state  has  its  own  senate 
and  popular  chamber,  each  with  its  own  minor  officers.  The  re- 
sult is  that  with  a population  not  greater  than  that  of  the  State 
of  Ohio  Argentina  has,  in  addition  to  a horde  of  federal  officers, 
15  senates,  15  chambers  of  deputies,  and  15  sets  of  revenue  col- 
lectors; it  has  small  officials  without  number,  all  of  whom  re- 
ceive salaries  and  most  of  whom  add  to  them  in  some  way  or 
other  not  sanctioned  by  law. 

All  the  provinces  are  in  debt,  and  but  a few  of  them  pay 
their  interest.  The  internal  debt  of  the  country  now  amounts  to 
almost  $200,000,000,  and  in  1895  the  provincial  debt,  including 
unpaid  interest,  amounted  to  more  than  $137,000,000  in  gold.  At 
present  (1899),  the  city  debts  foot  up  more  than  $24,000,000  in 
gold,  while  the  country  has  a national  debt  of  over  $350,000,000. 
A large  number  of  the  provinces  have  annually  to  be  assisted  by 
the  government  so  to  pay  the  salaries  of  their  officials. 

The  Argentine  Republic  has  a federal  congress,  which  meets 
at  Buenos  Aires.  There  are  two  houses,  one  composed  of  sena- 
tors, the  other  of  deputies.  Senators  must  be  thirty  years  of 
age,  have  resided  six  years  in  their  districts,  and  have  annual  in- 
comes of  $12,000  each.  A deputy  must  be  twenty-five  years  of 
age  and  must  have  been  a citizen  for  four  years.  The  deputies 
are  elected  for  four  years  and  the  senators  for  nine  years.  The 
president  is  elected  for  six  years.  Members  of  congress  each  re- 
ceive $12,000  in  Argentine  money  per  year;  the  president  has  a 


362  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

salary  of  $36,000.  The  vice-president  receives  just  half  as  much 
as  the  president,  and  each  of  the  cabinet  ministers  gets  $16,800 
per  annum. 

You  sometimes  see  statements  in  Northern  papers  that  there 
is  a close  telephonic  connection  between  the  national  capital  at 
Washington  and  Wall  street.  The  Argentine  congressman  is  not 
troubled  by  having  to  telephone.  The  houses  of  congress  in 
Buenos  Aires  are  just  across  the  square  from  the  stock-exchange, 
and  the  president’s  house  stands  between.  Some  of  the  greatest 
scandals  of  the  Argentine  Republic  have  been  in  connection  with 
the  misuse  of  the  public  funds  by  government  officials,  and  this 
especially  as  to  the  national  banks  and  stocks.  There  has  seldom 
been  such  corruption  as  there  was  in  connection  with  the  National 
Bank  of  the  Argentine,  which  failed  for  many  millions.  The 
bank  was  largely  political,  and  a prominent  official  could  cause  it 
to  pay  out  money  to  almost  anyone.  Many  of  the  congressmen 
drew  upon  it  for  their  support.  I heard  of  one  deputy  who  bor- 
rowed a million  dollars  from  the  bank  and  with  this  built  a 
palace  at  Belgrano,  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Buenos  Aires.  In  get- 
ting the  loan  he  agreed  to  repay  it  in  instalments,  so  much  every 
three  months.  When  the  first  payment  came  due  the  bank  direc- 
tors sent  for  him.  On  his  appearing  they  presented  the  note; 
he  looked  at  it  and  coolly  said  that  he  had  no  money.  They 
then  asked  him  to  pay  the  interest,  but  he  nonchalantly  replied, 
n I have  nothing. ” He  was  then  asked  if  he  could  not  pay  some 
of  the  interest,  whereupon  he  burst  out  in  a rage,  saying:  (<  I 
have  no  money,  I tell  you.  I doubt  whether  I will  ever  have 
any  for  you,  and  I want  to  know  right  here  and  now  whether 
you  expect  me  to  fight  the  battles  of  your  bank  in  congress  and 
then  pay  back  the  money  I get  from  it  just  as  other  people  do?” 
The  last  accounts  indicate  that  the  million  dollars  and  accumu- 
lated interest  were  still  outstanding,  and  that  the  indebtedness 
will  probably  remain  until  the  end  of  time. 

Another  instance  of  the  looseness  of  the  business  methods  of 
the  bank  is  shown  in  the  case  of  an  irresponsible  army  officer 
of  Cordoba,  who  wanted  to  borrow  $6,000  to  build  a house.  He 
knew  Julius  Celman,  who  was  then  president  of  the  Republic, 
and  called  upon  him  for  a note  of  introduction  to  the  officials  of 
the  bank.  President  Celman  not  only  introduced  him,  but  recom- 
mended that  the  money  be  lent  him  and  by  a slip  of  the  pen  I 


HOW  THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  IS  GOVERNED  363 

suppose,  asked  that  he  be  given  $60,000  instead  of  $6,000.  The 
officer  went  to  the  bank,  showed  the  letter  and  signed  an  ap- 
plication, which  the  clerk  made  out  for  him,  the  clerk  putting  in 
the  $60,000  as  requested  by  the  president.  The  bank  directors 
voted  that  he  should  have  the  money,  and  the  papers  were  made 
out,  the  officer  signing  the  note  without  scanning  the  figures. 
When  this  was  done  the  teller  of  the  bank  handed  out  $60,000 
to  the  officer,  whereupon  he  replied  that  he  had  not  asked  for 
$60,000  but  only  wanted  $6,000.  Whereupon  they  showed  him 
the  papers.  The  army  officer  pointed  out  the  mistake  and  asked 
what  he  should  do.  They  replied  that  he  had  better  take  the 
$6,000  and  leave  the  remainder  of  the  money  on  deposit,  and 
that  when  the  first  payment  came  due  he  could  pay  the  whole 
note.  So  leaving  the  $54,000,  the  officer  went  away.  Later  on, 
however,  he  met  a friend  who  persuaded  him  he  would  be  a 
fool  not  to  take  all  the  money,  as  he  could  certainly  make  more 
by  using  it  for  speculating.  The  result  was  that  he  did  take  it 
and  lost  the  whole,  and  the  bank  was  never  repaid. 

Orders  like  this  for  money  from  public  officials  were  frequently 
given  to  the  national  banks.  The  standing  of  the  man  who  was 
to  receive  the  money  was  seldom  questioned,  although  cash  was 
given  in  exchange  for  his  notes.  I have  heard  of  common  peons 
who  thus  got  money  on  their  worthless  notes  at  the  instance  of 
politicians,  who  paid  them  for  the  use  of  their  names. 

The  bank  would  accept  drafts  twenty  or  thirty  times  greater 
than  those  which  its  directors  authorized.  One  of  the  directors 
was  always  to  be  bought  by  a bribe.  False  balance  sheets  were 
periodically  published  to  deceive  the  public,  and  dividends  which 
had  never  been  earned  were  paid  out  of  the  bank  funds.  The 
bank  at  its  inception  had  a capital  of  $8,000,000;  ten  years  later 
this  was  raised  to  about  $20,000,000,  and  it  was  afterwards  in- 
creased to  $50,000,000.  In  one  year  its  deposits  were  $253,000,000, 
and  its  loans  were  $412,000,000.  It  had  in  its  vaults  $432,000,000 
of  national  treasury  bills,  and  it  had  a savings  department  in 
which  $1,400,000  were  deposited.  The  bank  went  down  in  the 
panic,  as  did  other  banks  of  similar  character.  One  was  a mort- 
gage bank  whose  business  was  lending  good  money  on  bad 
property.  The  government  was  also  interested  in  this,  and  many 
a swamp  lot  was  used  as  security  for  a $10,000  loan.  To-day 
such  banks  have  passed  away,  and  the  man  who  makes  money 


364  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

out  of  the  government  must  do  so  either  through  bribery  or 
by  getting  a fat  contract. 

Buenos  Aires  has  many  fine  public  buildings.  It  has  as  fine 
steamship  docks  as  any  European  port,  and  it  is  now  erecting  a 
great  structure  to  correspond  with  our  national  capitol  at  Wash- 
ington. I do  not  know  the  exact  amount  of  money  that  is  to  be 
spent  upon  this,  but  it  will  probably  be  enormous,  as  Buenos  Aires 
is  extravagant  beyond  description  in  such  matters.  Take,  for  in- 
stance, the  water-works.  The  houses  of  rich  millionaires  in  New 
York  have  no  finer  tiles  about  their  mantels  than  the  material 
which  adorns  the  outside  of  this  public  building.  The  structure 
covers  four  acres,  and  it  is  all  faced,  not  with  stone  or  pressed 
brick,  but  with  costly  porcelain  tiles.  Every  tile  was  imported 
from  England.  I have  seen  the  tiled  walls  and  roofs  of  the  pal- 
aces of  the  Emperor  at  Peking,  but  the  water-works  building  at 
Buenos  Aires  has  a finer  covering.  The  building  has  cost  about 
as  much  as  our  national  library  at  Washington,  and  its  only  use 
is  to  hold  twelve  huge  iron  tanks,  through  which  is  filtered  the 
water  of  Buenos  Aires.  The  tanks  themselves,  which  are  worth 
seeing,  cost  $2,000,000.  Each  of  them  weighs  14,000  tons,  and 
all  fill  the  great  building  from  floor  to  mansard  roof.  The 
water  flows  in  from  the  river  through  pipes  so  large  that  they 
can  carry  20,000,000  gallons  in  twenty-four  hours.  The  tanks 
will  hold  15,000  gallons  at  one  time,  and  a continuous  stream  of 
water  is  filtering  through  them,  so  that  they  contain  much  more 
than  this  amount  in  a day.  It  is  said  that  there  was  corruption 
in  the  letting  of  the  contract  for  this  building,  and  that  the  gov- 
ernment officials  who  secured  it  were  able  to  put  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  $1,000,000  into  their  own  pockets. 

The  Argentine  government  finds  that  it  cannot  afford  to  hold 
on  to  its  railroad  property.  There  are  annually  deficits,  where 
there  should  be  dividends.  The  lines  are  consequently  passing 
into  the  hands  of  the  English.  Those  that  are  still  controlled  by 
the  government  have  such  poor  rolling  stock  that  the  private 
companies  will  not  allow  government  cars  to  pass  over  their 
rails;  they  prefer  to  tranship.  Appointments  on  the  government 
railways  are  commonly  made  without  regard  to  efficiency  or  pre- 
vious experience;  politicians  after  jobs  apply  for  the  places.  One 
prominent  man  recently  asked  to  be  made  assistant-manager  of 
the  Central  Argentine  system.  He  was  questioned  as  to  his 


HOW  THE  ARGENTINE  REPUBLIC  IS  GOVERNED  365 

experience,  and  replied  that  he  knew  all  about  the  railroad,  for  he 
had  travelled  over  it  as  a passenger  several  times  ! The  govern- 
ment lines  are  generally  in  bad  condition.  All  sorts  of  jokes  are 
made  concerning  them,  a common  charge  being  that  they  should 
put  cow-catchers  on  the  rear  of  the  trains  to  keep  the  cattle 
from  running  over  them.  The  private  lines,  on  the  other  hand, 
make  money;  they  are  carefully  constructed,  well  managed,  and 
economically  run. 

Theoretically,  the  judicial  system  of  the  Argentine  Republic 
is  admirable.  There  is  a supreme  court  of  five  judges,  which  is 
also  a court  of  appeal.  There  is  an  attorney-general,  who  is 
supposed  to  bring  criminals  to  the  bar,  and  there  are  a number 
of  inferior  and  local  courts.  According  to  the  constitution,  trial 
by  jury  must  be  given  in  criminal  cases  and  each  state  has  its 
own  judicial  system.  In  1895,  4,500  criminal  cases  were  tried  in 
Buenos  Aires,  and  there  were  during  that  year  14,000  arrests  for 
breaches  of  the  peace.  You  find  policemen  on  every  corner  in 
the  Argentine  capital ; they  are  well  dressed,  and  carry  swords, 
with  which  they  are  ready  to  cut  down  any  one  who  resists 
them.  On  opera  nights  a company  of  mounted  police  on  pranc- 
ing steeds  guards  the  streets  leading  to  the  opera  house,  and  on 
every  public  occasion  the  police  are  out  in  force.  As  a rule,  you 
will  find  order  in  Buenos  Aires  as  well  kept  as  in  any  city  in 
the  world. 

The  matter  of  a police  appointment  is  one  of  political  influ- 
ence, and  the  police  are  very  careful  whom  they  arrest.  One  of 
the  distinguidos,  or  upper  class  of  young  men,  may  get  as  drunk 
as  he  pleases  and  it  is  rarely  that  he  is  arrested,  while  a poor 
Italian  or  Spaniard  will  be  quickly  taken  to  jail.  In  the  courts 
the  rich  stand  a much  better  chance  than  the  poor.  There  are, 
of  course,  some  just  judges,  but  the  judges  who  will  not  accept 
bribes  are  in  the  minority.  Prominent  Argentines  are  awarded 
the  preference  in  the  courts  where  the  matter  of  right  is  not  at 
all  equally  balanced;  as  a rule,  the  man  who  (<  sees ® the  judge 
first  has  the  best  chance  of  a decision  in  his  favor.  There  is  no 
lack  of  lawyers,  for  many  of  the  young  Argentines  of  good 
families  adopt  law  as  a profession,  some  not  expecting  to  practice, 
but  only  to  have  the  title  of  doctor  before  their  names.  There 
are  many  good  lawyers  and  not  a few  have  large  incomes  from 
their  practice. 


366  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

During  my  stay  in  Buenos  Aires  I have  seen  much  of  the 
Argentine  army.  The  regular  soldiers  are  drilling  daily  in  Pa- 
lermo Park,  and  companies  of  militia  are  being  organized.  While 
at  the  races  I saw  military  recruiting  officers  go  from  man  to 
man  and  demand  papers  showing  whether  or  not  they  were  Ar- 
gentine citizens.  If  Argentines,  of  a given  age,  they  had  to  ex- 
plain why  they  were  not  in  the  national  guard  or  accompany  the 
officer  to  be  enrolled.  The  strained  relations  between  Argentina 
and  Chile  require  each  nation  to  be  in  good  fighting  trim,  and 


ARGENTINE  TROOPS  OF  THE  LINE 


for  this  reason  the  armies  of  both  are  carefully  trained.  The 
Argentine  republic  has  now  a regular  force  of  about  30,000  offi- 
cers and  men  and  a national  guard  of  480,000.  It  has  one  of  the 
best  navies  in  South  America,  including  fine  coast-defence  ships, 
armour  clads,  six  armoured  cruisers,  three  second-class  cruisers, 
and  seven  smaller  cruisers  and  gunboats.  Its  naval  vessels  are 
in  number  and  size  about  equal  to  those  of  Chile,  though  I 
doubt  if  they  are  in  as  good  condition  or  as  well  manned.  The 
Argentines  can  put  more  men  in  the  field  than  Chile,  but  from 
cursory  investigation  I should  say  that  the  Chilenos  have  by  far 
the  better  drilled  and  physically  the  stronger  soldiers. 


1368)  ON  THE  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD 


CHAPTER  XL 


ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  THE  TRANS-ANDEAN 

RAILROAD 

The  Trans-Andean  Railroad  — How  the  Track  Climbs  the  Andes  — Snow- 
Sheds  cut  out  of  solid  Rock,  and  other  Curious  Features  of 
Railroad-Building  — Groceries  on  Wheels,  and  Freight  Cars  with 
Sails — A look  at  Aconcagua,  the  Highest  of  the  Andes  — Singular 
Features  of  Nature  on  the  Pampas,  where  it  sometimes  Rains  Mud. 

cross  South  America  by  railroad;  climbing  over  the  Andes 
on  iron  tracks;  drawn  through  the  vast  pampas  of  the 
Argentine  by  a locomotive;  joining  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  by  an  iron  band  — this  is  the  problem  which  has  long 
been  agitating  the  Argentine  and  Chile,  and  which  is  now  al- 
most solved. 

As  it  is,  the  railroad  is  about  completed.  There  are  now  less 
than  40  miles  yet  to  build,  and  there  will  soon  be  an  iron  track 
from  ocean  to  ocean.  The  railroad  from  Mendoza  to  Buenos 
Aires  is  excellent,  although  the  distance  is  654  miles;  there  is 
also  a fairly  good  line  from  Mendoza  nearly  to  the  top  of  the 
Argentine  Andes.  I travelled  on  the  western  part  of  the  Trans- 
Andean  track  from  Valparaiso  on  the  Pacific  to  within  a few 
miles  of  the  Argentine  boundary  and  found  it  well  built.  At  pres- 
ent trains  are  running  over  the  Trans-Andean  road  three  times  a 
week,  travellers  being  taken  over  the  unfinished  part  in  a day  on 
mules  or  in  carriages.  Even  old  people  and  little  children  can 
now  make  the  journey  without  much  inconvenience,  and  during 
the  summer  there  is  plenty  of  travel.  With  the  stops  it  now  re- 
quires but  four  days  to  cross  South  America,  and  when  the  last 
link  is -joined,  the  trip  from  Valparaiso  to  Buenos  Aires  will  be 
made  in  twenty-nine  hours. 

The  Trans-Andean  Railroad  will  be  just  about  as  long  as 
from  New  York  to  Chicago,  and  it  will  reduce  the  time  between 
Valparaiso  and  London  by  fully  two  weeks.  It  will  get  all  the 

(369) 


37°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

travel  which  now  goes  from  the  west  coast  around  the  Strait  of 
Magellan  to  Europe,  and  Australian  passengers  will  come  from 
Europe  to  Buenos  Aires,  thence  by  way  of  Valparaiso,  where,  by 
a new  line  of  steamers  now  proposed,  they  will  be  carried  on  to 
Australia.  It  takes  37  days  to  go  from  the  chief  ports  of  Chile 
to  Europe  via  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  It  requires  about  16 
days  to  steam  from  Valparaiso  to  Buenos  Aires,  while  from 
Buenos  Aires  to  Liverpool  is  about  20  days  more.  By  the  rail- 
road one  will  be  able  to  cross  the  continent  in  less  than  two 
days,  thus  saving  14  days  over  the  Strait  route  to  the  Atlantic 
ports,  and  15  days  on  the  voyage  to  Europe. 

As  it  is  now,  the  road  is  profitable  in  the  summer,  notwith- 
standing the  enormous  cost  of  transportation  between  the  sec- 
tions. When  it  is  completed  traffic  can  be  carried  on  throughout 
the  year.  At  present,  during  the  heavy  snowfalls  in  the  Andes, 
passengers  have  to  wait  for  days  at  one  side  or  the  other.  This 
will  be  obviated  by  snow-sheds  which  are  being  cut  out  of  the 
solid  rock,  so  that  the  cars  can  go  through  whether  it  snows  01 
not.  There  are  40  miles  of  wooden  snow-sheds  on  one  of  our 
railroads  in  the  Rockies.  Here  stone  sheds  will  be  cheaper. 
The  Trans-Andean  route,  however,  will  not  need  so  many  sheds, 
nor  will  it  have  such  heavy  and  long-lasting  snows. 

Crossing  the  Andes  at  this  pass  is  not  a greater  railroad  under- 
taking than  crossing  the  Rockies.  The  truth  is,  the  highest  point  of 
the  road  when  completed  will  be  about  200  feet  lower  than  Mar- 
shall Pass  on  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  and  less  than  500  feet 
higher  than  Leadville.  The  Upsallata  Pass,  where  the  road  goes 
over  the  mountain,  is  13,000  feet  high,  but  the  tunnel  will  be 
only  10,642  feet  above  the  sea.  It  will  be  almost  a mile  lower 
than  the  tunnel  through  Mount  Meiggs  on  the  railroad  which 
crosses  the  Andes  back  of  Lima,  Peru,  and  more  than  three- 
quarters  of  a mile  lower  than  the  railroad  from  the  sea  up  to 
Lake  Titicaca  on  the  Bolivian  plateau. 

The  building  of  the  road  offers  no  engineering  difficulties 
which  cannot  be  easily  surmounted.  The  summit  will  be  reached 
by  a rack  rail  in  the  centre  of  the  track,  the  cars  being  hauled 
by  locomotives  on  cogged  car-wheels,  which  work  in  these  racks. 
The  track  will  be  about  the  same  as  that  on  Mount  Washington 
or  Pike’s  Peak,  or  the  Righi.  This  cog  line  is  a narrow  gauge, 
while  both  the  Chilean  and  the  Argentine  railroads  which  connect 


ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD  371 


with  it  are  broad  gauge.  The  cog  line  is  only  three  feet  three 
inches  wide,  and  transfers  will  have  to  be  made  at  both  ends  of 
it;  in  this  respect  the  plan  of  construction  is  bad.  There  should 
be  one  gauge  from  ocean  to  ocean,  so  that  goods  can  be  taken 
without  transfer  from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic,  and  vice  versa. 

The  Trans-Andean  Railroad  is  one  of  the  chief  scenic  routes 
in  the  world.  Suppose  we  cross  the  continent  by  it,  starting  at 
Valparaiso,  on  the  Pacific.  The  city  has  100,000  people,  and  its 


UPSALLATA  PASS 

Stone  Houses  Built  to  Protect  Mail-Carriers  when  Overtaken  by  Storms 
in  the  Mountains 


houses  are  as  fine  as  those  of  any  European  seaport.  They  are 
built  in  terraces  rising  in  the  shape  of  an  amphitheatre  around  a 
magnificent  bay.  There  are  green  trees  among  them,  and  the 
flowers  bloom  all  the  year  round.  We  step  out  of  the  boat  on  to 
stone  wharves  and  are  taken  in  a carriage  to  a fine  two-story 
stone  station.  Here  there  are  waiting-rooms  for  first-  and  second- 
class  passengers.  We  ask  for  our  tickets,  but  are  told  that  it  is 
yet  half  an  hour  before  the  train  goes,  and  that  no  tickets  will 


372  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

be  sold  until  within  fifteen  minutes  of  starting-time.  We  wait, 
and  the  agent  finally  opens  the  window  and  gives  us  our  tickets. 
We  try  to  check  our  baggage,  but  are  told  that  nothing  is  free, 
and  that  we  must  pay  express  rates  on  every  pound.  We  get  a 
receipt,  however,  and  then  cross  over  the  track  to  reach  the  cars. 
We  step  down  to  do  this,  for  the  tracks  are  sunken  and  the  plat- 
forms are  level  with  the  floors  of  the  cars. 

While  we  wait  for  the  train  let  us  take  a glance  at  the  pas- 
sengers. Beside  me  stands  a young  English  girl,  with  school 
books  under  her  arm,  and  there  are  English  and  German  mer- 
chants who  are  booked  for  Santiago.  There  are  Chilenos,  with 
big  hats  and  ponchos,  who  have  come  in  from  the  country,  and 
Chilean  women  who  have  their  faces  coated  with  powder,  looking 
all  the  more  ghastly  from  the  black  shawls  on  their  heads.  There 
are  young  priests  in  black  hats  and  black  gowns  that  reach  to 
their  feet.  There  are  Chilean  military  officers  in  gay  uniforms, 
and  black-eyed  boys  who  are  going  from  school  to  their  homes 
in  the  interior. 

A bell  is  rung  before  the  train  leaves.  We  skirt  the  harbour, 
pass  through  the  fashionable  suburb  of  Vina  del  Mar,  and  come 

almost  at  once  to  the  foothills  of  the  Coast  Range.  We  pass  oxen 

ploughing  in  the  fields,  dragging  wooden  ploughs  through  the 
furrows  by  a pole  fastened  to  a yoke  on  their  heads.  We  go  by 
great  vineyards,  lemon  orchards,  and  orange  groves,  and  now 
and  then  stop  at  a village  or  city  of  flat,  one-story  houses.  We 
pass  over  one  low  ridge  after  another,  rising  higher  each  time, 
until  we  come  to  the  great  valley  in  which  Santiago,  the  capital 
of  Chile,  lies.  We  ride  over  this  valley  all  day  and  then  strike 
the  second  range  of  the  Andes,  with  the  highest  peak  on  our 
hemisphere  rising  above  us.  The  peak  is  Aconcagua.  It  is  al- 
most 24,000  feet  high,  and  it  touches  the  sky  farther  above  the 
sea  than  any  peak  outside  the  Himalayas.  The  snow  on  its  top 
is  perpetual;  the  ice  upon  its  sides  never  melts;  while  the  winds 

that  blow  over  it,  in  their  everlasting  march  from  ocean  to 

ocean,  howl  at  times  like  the  skrieks  of  the  damned. 

We  stop  over  night  at  Los  Andes,  a town  in  the  valley  of  the 
Aconcagua  river.  It  has  about  6,000  people  and  is  surrounded 
by  orchards  of  apple  and  peach  trees,  with  rich  irrigated  gardens 
lying  high  up  in  the  mountains.  From  here  the  railroad  has 
been  extended  to  Salto  del  Soldado,  where  you  take  mules  or 


THE  ANDES-COACH-ROAD  FROM  ARGENTINE  TO  CHILE 


ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD  375 

stages  to  go  over  the  pass.  The  end  of  the  road  is  about  as 
high  as  the  top  of  Mount  Washington,  and  from  there  on,  the 
route  is  exceedingly  steep.  The  country  is  wild  in  the  extreme. 
Much  of  the  mountain  region  is  nothing  but  a desert  of  rocks 
and  snow,  inhabited  only  by  condors,  with  here  and  there  a 
guanaco,  resembling  a species  of  wild  llama.  We  cross  the  Puenta 
del  Inca,  a wonderful  natural  bridge,  near  which  there  are 
hot  springs  of  crystalline  water,  and  enter  the  Valley  of  Death, 
or  Cuevas  Valley,  where  are  skeletons  of  mules  and  oxen,  the  re- 
mains of  the  dead  from  the  droves  which  to  the  number  of  thou- 
sands are  annually  driven  across  the  mountains.  As  you  rise  to 
the  high  elevations  you  are  fortunate  if  you  do  not  have  0 soroche, B 
or  mountain  sickness,  and  you  are  glad  when  you  have  passed 
the  cumbre  or  summit,  and  are  on  the  railway  which  takes  you 
down  to  Mendoza,  in  Argentina. 

From  Mendoza  to  Buenos  Aires  is  about  as  far  as  from  New 
York  to  Cleveland.  The  road  is  one  of  the  older  of  the  Argen- 
tine lines.  Its  cars  are  not  uncomfortable : they  are  built  some- 
what after  the  Mann  boudoir  order,  with  little  apartments  running 
through  them,  reached  by  an  aisle  outside.  Each  apartment  has 
four  berths,  two  upper  and  two  lower.  During  the  daytime  the 
upper  berths  are  put  up  and  you  sit  on  the  lower  benches  facing 
your  fellow-passengers.  At  night  the  bedding  is  brought  into 
the  cars  from  the  baggage  coach,  and  one’s  bed  is  made  up  by 
the  porter. 

Most  of  the  sleepers  have  travelling  bars  on  them.  The  bar 
is  in  the  baggage-car.  It  is  furnished  with  all  kinds  of  liquors, 
and  you  can  get  anything  from  champagne  to  cognac  and  from 
apollinaris  to  beer.  There  is  a little  stove  in  the  car,  on  which 
the  porter  makes  coffee,  and  brings  it  to  you  in  the  morning  be- 
fore you  are  out  of  bed.  He  charges  you  about  eight  cents  for 
a cup  of  coffee,  a biscuit  and  a little  butter,  which  is  quite  cheap 
enough.  Most  of  the  other  meals  are  taken  at  the  stations,  about 
thirty  minutes  being  allowed  for  breakfast  or  dinner;  the  violent 
ringing  of  a bell  announces  the  starting  of  the  train.  The  sleeping- 
cars  are  more  plainly  furnished  than  ours,  and  the  bedding  is  not 
so  good. 

In  commenting  one  day  on  the  lack  of  fine  furniture,  an  Eng- 
lish railroad  manager  told  me  that  the  Argentine  companies  find 
that  it  does  not  pay  to  make  extravagant  cars,  for  it  is  difficult 


376  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  keep  them  in  order.  Said  he:  “You  would  be  surprised  at 
the  wanton  damage  that  is  done  by  passengers.  Many  of  the 
Argentines  are  born  iconoclasts.  They  use  their  diamonds  to 
scratch  their  names  on  the  mirrors  and  plate-glass  windows. 
Some  of  them  get  into  bed  with  their  boots  on,  and  others  are 
filthy  in  the  extreme.  We  have  to  watch  things  closely  or  they 
would  be  stolen  or  destroyed.  Why,  we  have  had  passengers 
throw  blankets  out  of  the  windows,  merely  as  a matter  of  fun, 
and  we  have  so  many  such  losses  that  we  now  take  stock  at  the 
close  of  every  run. B 

Nevertheless,  Argentina  is  well  equipped  with  railroads.  It 
has  more  roads  than  any  other  of  the  South  American  Re- 
publics, and  it  is  now  building  many  new  lines.  There  are 
n,ooo  miles  of  railroad  in  operation.  Three  years  ago  there 
were  not  more  than  9,000  miles.  The  roads,  moreover,  are 
growing  better  every  year;  they  are  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  pri- 
vate parties,  the  government  having  practically  relinquished  its 
idea  of  controlling  them.  It  is  different  in  Chile,  where  the 
roads  are  also  good,  although  they  are  not  more  than  one-fifth  as 
extensive  — that  is  in  length  of  lines.  The  Chilean  government 
seems  to  be  gradually  acquiring  the  old  roads  and  is  also  build- 
ing new  ones. 

There  is  no  place  in  the  world  where  it  is  easier  to  build  a 
railroad  than  on  the  Argentine  pampas.  The  land  for  hundreds 
of  miles  is  perfectly  level  and  so  solid  that  but  little  ballast  is 
needed.  One  of  the  chief  expenses  is  the  ties,  for  there  are  no 
trees  on  the  pampas,  and  all  kinds  of  lumber  must  be  imported. 
Many  of  the  ties  come  down  the  Parana  river  from  Paraguay. 
The  favourite  kinds  are  of  quebracho  and  other  hard  woods,  which 
are  so  heavy  that  a single  tie  will  often  weigh  200  pounds.  The 
wood  is  so  hard  that  spikes  cannot  be  driven  into  it  without  first 
boring  holes  for  them.  After  the  rails  are  once  fixed,  it  is  im- 
possible to  draw  the  spikes  out. 

Most  of  the  Argentine  railroads  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Eng- 
lish. Some  have  been  built,  much  like  our  roads,  at  heavy  capi- 
talization, and  with  their  ups  and  downs  on  the  stock  market. 
It  is  safe  to  say,  however,  that  more  than  half  a billion  dollars 
have  been  spent  in  constructing  railroads  through  the  Argentines. 
In  1896  the  capital  stock  of  the  roads  footed  up  over  $510,000,000, 
and  their  gross  receipts  were  more  than  $31,000,000,  while  the 


v 377 ) FRONTIERS  OF  ARGENTINA  AND  CHILE,  SUMMIT  OF  THE  ANDES 


ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD  379 


expenses  were  not  more  than  $16,000,000.  This  left  a profit  of 
$15,000,000  in  gold  for  the  year,  or  about  three  per  cent  on  the 
total  amount  spent  in  constructing  them.  The  average  profits  of 
the  better  roads  were  high,  while  many  of  the  others  had  deficits, 
not  dividends.  Most  of  the  roads  are  of  the  English  broad 
gauge,  that  is  wider  than  any  of  our  roads  at  home.  The  steel 
rails  now  being  used  by  the  Southern  Railway  weigh  74  pounds 
to  the  yard.  They  are  imported  from  England,  whence  most  of 
the  rolling  stock  has  been  brought,  although  the  chief  companies 
have  now  their  own  shops  and  are  making  cars.  There  are  a 
few  Baldwin  and  Rogers  engines  in  use,  but  these  are  chiefly  on 
the  government  lines. 

Italians  are  the  chief  workmen  on  the  Argentine  railroads. 
The  work  is  done  by  contract,  one  Italian  taking  a gang  and  do- 
ing his  work  by  the  job  or  by  the  yard.  On  a road  in  Pata- 
gonia which  I visited  I found  twenty  gangs,  each  containing  ten 
men,  laying  tracts;  they  were  given  so  much  per  mile.  The 
workmen  lived  in  tents  along  the  railroad,  and  they  were  sup- 
plied with  provisions  from  a provision  car.  The  provision  car  is 
an  odd  feature  of  railroad  building  in  this  part  of  the  world.  It 
is  called  a provideria ; it  is,  in  fact,  a little  department  Store  on 
wheels.  The  car  is  fitted  up  with  shelves  upon  which  are  clothes, 
tobacco,  liquors,  groceries,  and  in  short  everything  that  the  men 
can  possibly  want.  It  is  in  charge  of  a store-keeper,  who  fur- 
nishes goods  to  railroad  men  at  the  lowest  possible  rates.  The 
company  supplies  the  goods  and  pays  all  the  bills.  It  keeps 
about  $80,000  worth  of  goods  in  stock,  and  sells  them  to  its  men 
at  a profit  of  about  three  per  cent.  It  puts  the  goods  at  such 
prices  that  the  men  can  buy  more  cheaply  than  at  the  stores. 
For  instance,  good  Italian  wine  is  sold  for  about  forty  cents  of 
Argentine  money  a quart;  this  is  less  than  fifteen  cents  Ameri- 
can. Beef  costs  about  four  cents  a pound,  and  clothing  is  pro- 
portionately cheap.  Among  the  curious  things  I saw  in  one  of 
these  cars  were  London  jams  and  Indian  Chutney.  I also  saw 
olive  oil,  macaroni,  and  all  kinds  of  crackers. 

I was  interested  in  the  track-layers  and  visited  them  in  their 
camps.  They  tell  me  that  a man  can  live  by  using  the  (<  provi- 
deria ” on  about  twenty  cents  a day,  and  that  their  average 
wages  are  about  $25  gold  per  month;  many  of  them  save  $18 
a month  out  of  the  $25.  The  men  complained  that  their  tents 


380  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


were  too  small.  They  were  of  the  A shape  and  so  small  that 
only  four  cots  could  be  placed  in  each  tent.  Five  men  I found, 
however,  were  allotted  to  a tent,  and  so  one  had  to  sleep  on  the 
ground. 

One  of  the  chief  discomforts  of  railroad-riding  in  the  Argen- 
tines comes  from  the  winds;  it  blows  on  the  pampas  at  times  with 
all  the  force  of  a Kansas  blizzard.  I am  told  that  while  the  road 
from  Buenos  Aires  to  Mendoza  was  building  the  cars  were 
sometimes  blown  off  the  track,  and  that  it  was  customary  to  put 
sails  on  the  freight  trains  and  allow  the  wind  to  push  them  along 


SOUTHERN  RAILROAD  DEPOT -“THE  ENGLISH  OWN  THE  RAILROADS” 

over  the  rails.  This,  however,  I doubt,  as  I do  other  tales  told 
here  in  this  land  of  luxury,  laziness,  and  lying. 

I do  not  doubt,  however,  the  stories  as  to  the  dust.  There  is 
no  land  where  the  dust  blows  more  than  in  Argentina.  Its  dust- 
storms  are  heavier  than  our  snow-storms;  they  sometimes  stop 
the  cars,  filling  the  grades  and  cuttings  so  that  a plough  is  often 
needed  to  get  through.  During  a dust-storm  a few  years  ago  it 
took  2,000  men  a week  to  clear  the  track  on  one  of  the  roads. 
Such  storms  sometimes  obscure  the  sun,  and  if  rain  comes 


ACROSS  SOUTH  AMERICA  ON  TRANS-ANDEAN  RAILROAD  381 

while  the  dust  is  in  the  air  it  brings  with  it  a shower  of  mud 
which  paints  the  houses,  fences,  and  everything  with  a sticky 
mass.  If  the  rain  continues,  the  wood  is  scoured  clean  by  the 
mud,  but  if  not,  it  is  left  in  a most  deplorable  condition.  I have 
heard  of  dust-storms  that  have  filled  the  floors  of  the  cars,  the 
dust  being  so  fine  that  it  went  through  the  windows  and  doors, 
and  I know  to  my  sorrow  that  such  a storm  will  coat  your  face 
and  clothes  in  ten  minutes  and  make  white  man  and  Indian, 
African,  and  Caucasian  of  the  same  gray  complexion.  It  will 
cause  your  lips  to  crack  and  dust  your  tongue  so  that  you  feel 
as  though  you  had  been  biting  into  one  of  the  apples  of  Sodom 
and  had  gotten  therefrom  a mouthful  of  ashes. 


CHAPTER  XLI 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  ARGENTINA 

What  should  be  Done  to  Better  our  Trade?  — We  need  American  Steamers 
and  an  International  American  Bank  — How  the  English  are  mak- 
ing Money  in  South  American  Banking  — Stock  Speculation  in  Buenos 
Aires  — A day  on  the  Exchange  — Opportunities  for  Investment. 

: United  States  will  not  be  able  to  compete  with  the 
European  nations  for  the  trade  of  the  Atlantic  coast  of 
South  America  until  it  has  closer  commercial  connec- 
tions. Steamship  lines  and  banking  companies  are  among  the 
tools  of  commerce,  and  until  we  own  such  tools  we  cannot  hope 
to  compete  with  other  nations  which  are  so  equipped.  To  get 
our  share  of  the  trade  of  Argentina  we  need  a fast  line  of  Amer- 
ican steamers  running  from  New  York  to  Buenos  Aires,  making 
regular  trips  from  one  port  to  the  other.  We  need  also  an 
American  bank  at  the  Argentine  capital,  with  its  connections  in 
New  York  and  its  branches  in  the  larger  cities  of  Eastern  South 
America. 

As  to  steamships,  those  that  come  from  Europe  to  Buenos 
Aires  are  so  much  finer  than  those  from  New  York  that  many 
passengers  prefer  to  travel  via  Europe,  although  the  distance  is 
about  three  thousand  miles  greater.  The  freight  rates  of  the 
various  lines  are  such  that  goods  can  be  sent  from  New  York, 
via  Europe,  to  Buenos  Aires,  almost  as  cheaply  as  on  steamers 
that  go  direct.  Shipments,  moreover,  can  be  made  much  more 
quickly,  the  result  being  that  much  of  our  goods  sold  to  South 
America  crosses  the  Atlantic  twice  on  the  way  to  their  destina- 
tion. 

To-day  there  is  not  a single  port  of  importance  on  the  Euro- 
pean coast  that  has  not  weekly  steamers  to  Buenos  Aires,  while 
New  York  has  steamers  only  fortnightly  and  often  only  once  a 
month.  At  Buenos  Aires  or  Montevideo  you  can  get  a ship  for 
Europe  almost  any  day  of  the  week  while  you  often  have  to  wait 
(382) 


(383)  BUENOS  AIRES  HARBOUR  — « THERE  IS  A BIG  CHANCE  FOR  A YANKEE  STEAMSHIP  LINE 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  ARGENTINA  385 

weeks  for  a direct  passage  to  the  United  States.  The  steamship 
lines  which  ply  between  Buenos  Aires  and  Europe  are  managed 
by  companies  with  large  capital.  The  Royal  Mail  sailing  from 
Southampton  has  a capital  of  $4,000,000.  The  North  German 
Lloyd  from  Bremen  has  a capital  of  $9,000,000,  and  the  capital 
of  the  Campagnie  des  Messageries  Maritime,  sailing  between 
Buenos  Aires  and  Bordeaux,  France,  amounts  to  $11,000,000.  All 
of  these  companies  pay  dividends,  as  do  also  the  other  English, 
German,  and  Italian  lines  that  regularly  call  at  Buenos  Aires.  A 
fast  line  of  American  steamers  could  take  one  from  New  York  to 
Buenos  Aires  in  seventeen  days,  and  the  journey  would  be  almost 
a pleasure  trip.  The  line  would  secure  a large  part  of  the  carry- 
ing trade  of  the  east  coast  of  South  America,  a trade  annually 
amounting  to  $100,000,000,  and  it  would  probably  pay  from  the 
start. 

An  American  bank  might  be  organized  in  New  York  to  do 
business  in  South  America  with  headquarters  at  Buenos  Aires, 
and  if  properly  managed  it  would  be  very  profitable.  It  should 
have  a capital  of  several  million  dollars,  subscribed  by  stock- 
holders interested  in  exporting  and  importing.  Such  a bank 
would  have  the  handling  of  most  of  the  hundred  million  dollars 
of  the  commerce  above  mentioned.  Its  profits  upon  this  exchange 
alone,  if  we  could  control  it,  would  be  worth  $1,000,000  a year. 
At  present  all  banking  is  done  through  London,  and  the  bankers 
there  take  a toll  of  one  per  cent  for  allowing  our  drafts  to  pass 
through  their  hands.  This  is  a tax  of  one  per  cent  on  trade,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  tax  paid  in  the  way  of  freight  charges  to 
European  vessels. 

Nearly  all  the  foreign  banks  of  South  America  are  making 
money.  They  charge  for  every  accommodation;  some  pay  divi- 
dends of  16  per  cent,  and  some  give  5 per  cent  on  deposits. 
They  operate  with  large  capital.  The  London  and  River  Plate 
Bank  of  Buenos  Aires  has  a capital  of  $7,500,000,  and  its  reserve 
fund  amounts  to  $5,000,000.  It  keeps  something  like  ^1,000,000 
in  English  sovereigns  in  its  vaults,  and  its  deposits  amount 
to  $80,000,000.  The  Anglo- Argentine  Bank,  another  English 
institution,  has  $2,250,000  capital,  and  the  London  and  Bra- 
zilian Bank  has  a capital  stock  of  $7,500,000.  There  are  also 
several  strong  Italian  banks,  a number  of  German  banks,  French 
banks,  and  Spanish  banks,  and,  in  fact,  almost  the  only  country 


386  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

that  does  business  with  Argentina  without  direct  banking  connec- 
tion in  Buenos  Aires  is  the  United  States.  These  banks  do  not 
speculate,  and  so  far  as  I know  no  foreign  bank  doing  business  in 
Argentina  has  failed.  The  great  speculation  of  a few  years  ago 
was  chiefly  confined  to  the  native  banks.  Argentina  had  a great 
boom  which  collapsed  and  thereby  almost  ruined  the  people. 
To-day  the  speculative  craze  has  passed  away;  it  has  taught  the 
Argentines  their  lesson,  and  property  is  more  stable. 

The  larger  enterprises  of  all  kinds  are  now  managed  by  for- 
eigners, and  from  year  to  year  the  government  holdings  grow 
less.  A foreigner’s  property  is  perfectly  safe;  he  has,  in  fact, 
equal  rights  with  the  naturalized  Argentine,  and  he  is  subject  to 
no  heavier  taxes.  All  businesses,  however,  have  to  pay  licenses 
ranging  from  $5  to  $20,000  per  annum,  according  to  the  amount 
of  business  done.  Banking  firms  pay  even  more,  the  highest 
tax  on  such  firms  amounting  to  $60,000.  Foreigners  who  do 
business,  with  or  without  a house  in  Buenos  Aires,  have  to  pay 
from  $100  to  $500  for  the  privilege,  and  those  who  are  only 
•commercial  travellers  pay  a fixed  license  of  $50.  This  sum  per- 
mits them  to  sell  only  in  Buenos  Aires  and  the  national  terri- 
tories; if  they  go  outside  Buenos  Aires  there  is  usually  a state 
tax  which  is  paid  in  addition,  and  this  ranges  from  $100  to  $300 
a year,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  state.  There  are,  of  course, 
other  taxes  on  business,  such  as  stamps,  etc.,  but  these  are  some- 
what the  same  all  the  world  over. 

As  to  stock-gamblers,  Buenos  Aires  has  as  great  a number  of 
<(  bulls  ® and  n bears  ® as  any  other  country  in  the  world.  Its  stock- 
exchange  or  <<bolsa))  is  the  financial  centre  of  Argentina.  In  it 
you  can  feel  the  pulse  of  the  money  market  and  can  see  as  much 
crazy  speculation  as  in  Paris,  London,  or  New  York.  The  great 
boom,  which  burst  in  1890,  came  from  the  rapid  growth  of  the 
country  during  the  previous  ten  years.  Its  growth  was  discounted 
over  and  over  again,  and  in  ten  years  more  than  $662,000,000 
worth  of  stock  was  floated,  and  of  that  quite  half  a billion  dollars 
were  totally  lost.  There  were  land  companies,  railway  companies, 
insurance  companies,  banks,  and  in  fact  almost  every  kind  of  in- 
stitution, capitalized  at  millions.  Most  of  these  have  entirely 
disappeared  from  the  market,  while  the  shares  of  other  companies 
have  declined  ninety  per  cent.  I doubt  whether  there  has  ever 
been  such  loose  business  methods  as  prevailed  here  at  that  time. 


THE  UNITED  STATES  AND  ARGENTINA 


387 


The  officers  of  the  government  were  in  many  of  the  deals. 
Even  the  highest  officials  speculated  with  government  money, 
and  through  the  government  banks  allowed  millions  to  be  loaned 
on  mortgages  on  worthless  property.  Europe  sent  millions  to 
fill  the  gaps,  expecting  to  get  tens  of  millions  back,  and  when 
the  bubble  burst  the  Baring  Brothers  and  other  long-established 
London  firms  came  near  bursting  with  it.  To-day  the  chief 
speculation  on  the  stock-exchange  is  in  the  money  of  the  coun- 
try. The  brokers  buy  and  sell  gold,  which  is  up  to-day  and 


STOCK-EXCHANGE,  BUENOS  AIRES 


down  to-morrow,  or  rather  they  sell  the  credits  of  cheir  country. 
In  other  words,  most  of  their  business  is  in  buying  and  selling 
their  own  notes. 

There  is  no  more  interesting  place  in  South  America  than 
this  stock-exchange  of  Buenos  Aires.  Its  doors  are  guarded  by 
footmen  in  livery,  and  from  12  to  1 o’clock  and  from  3 to  4 p.  m., 
you  may  meet  on  its  floors  the  brightest  men  of  the  Argentines. 
The  membership  costs  almost  nothing,  and  the  dues  are  less  than 
$3  per  quarter.  The  result  is  that  there  are  700  brokers,  and 
nearly  every  prominent  business  man  in  the  city  is  a member  of 


388  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  exchange.  The  stock-exchange  is  not  unlike  a business 
man’s  club,  and  if  you  could  enter  it  without  knowing  where  you 
were  going,  you  might  well  imagine  yourself  in  the  stock  markets 
of  New  York  or  Chicago.  The  one  difference  is  the  language, 
for  the  men  are  of  all  nationalities,  and  they  dress  and  look  much 
like  their  brother  brokers  in  London,  New  York,  and  Chicago. 
The  same  mutations  of  fortune  exist,  and  each  man  can  tell  you 
the  story  of  his  own  ups  and  downs- — of  fortunes  lost  and  won. 
Speculation  makes  and  loses  money  just  as  quickly  in  Buenos 
Aires  as  in  New  York;  and  as  the  commercial  relations  of  the 
United  States  and  Argentina  grow  closer,  I predict  that  Amer- 
icans will  here  hold  their  own  with  the  Italians,  Germans,  and 
English,  as  they  make  their  bids  for  the  financial  plums  of  the 
Argentine  Republic. 

As  to  general  investments  Argentina  offers  excellent  chances 
for  capitalists  who  care  to  buy  lands.  Real  estate  has  been  rising 
for  years  and  is  still  going  higher.  Land  is  bought  by  the 
square  league,  of  6,666  acres.  It  ranges  in  price  from  a few  hun- 
dred up  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  a league,  according  to  its  char- 
acter and  location.  There  is  also  money  to  be  made  in  manufac- 
turing, in  the  organization  of  electric  railways,  and  along  other 
such  lines.  There  is,  however,  no  opportunity  for  the  man  with- 
out capital,  especially  when  the  lack  of  capital  is  accompanied  by 
the  lack  of  a working  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  language.  Span- 
ish is  used  everywhere,  and  without  it  no  man  can  do  business. 
People  with  capital  can  buy  their  interpreters,  but  they  will  labour 
under  obvious  disadvantages.  Men  without  capital  will  have  to 
compete  with  the  cheapest  labour  of  Spain  and  Italy,  and  must 
work  for  wages  much  less  than  those  paid  for  the  same  class  of 
brain  and  muscle  in  the  United  States. 


CHAPTER  XLII 


UP  THE  PARAGUA  Y RIVER 

A Thirteen-Hundred-Milf,  Trip  on  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  system  into  the 
Heart  of  South  America  — The  Parana  River  and  its  Ten  Thousand 
Islands,  which  are  floating  down  to  the  Sea  — Strange  Sights  on 
the  Paraguay  River  — Monkeys,  Parrots,  Jaguars,  and  Crocodiles  — 
Life  on  the  River  Steamers  — Singular  Table  Manners. 

am  in  Asuncion,  Paraguay,  in  the  heart  of  South  Amer- 
ica. The  city  is  as  far  inland  in  a straight  line  from 
the  Atlantic  as  Chicago,  but  I had  to  travel  farther 
than  from  New  York  to  Omaha  to  reach  it.  I started  at  Buenos 
Aires,  on  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  about  200  miles  from  the  ocean, 
and  travelled  from  there  a distance  of  1,115  miles  on  the  Parana 
and  Paraguay  rivers. 

On  the  first  day  out  we  steamed  past  the  mouth  of  the 
Uruguay  river  and  entered  the  Parana.  About  800  miles  farther 
north  we  came  into  the  Paraguay  river  and  sailed  up  it  for  more 
than  300  miles.  The  Paraguay  is  navigable  by  small  steamers 
for  1,400  miles  north  of  this  point,  and  just  opposite  it  is  the 
mouth  of  the  Pilcomayo,  which  rises  in  the  Bolivian  Andes  and 
in  a tortuous  course  flows  for  1,500  miles  through  unexplored 
wilds  before  it  empties  into  the  Paraguay.  The  Parana  itself  is 
over  2,000  miles  long;  it  rises  in  the  mountains  of  Brazil  and 
flows  more  than  1,200  miles  before  it  swallows  up  the  Para- 
guay. 

The  river  system  of  the  Plate,  or  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  is 
one  of  the  most  wonderful  in  the  world.  The  volume  of  the 
stream  is  greater  than  that  of  the  Mississippi;  it  is  surpassed 
only  by  the  Amazon.  It  drains  a basin  more  than  half  as  large 
as  the  whole  United  States,  and  one  which  in  fertility  of  soil 
and  salubrity  of  climate  is  surpassed  only  by  the  basin  of  the 
Mississippi.  The  basin  of  the  Plate  is  over  2,000  miles  long;  it 
S.  A.— 25  (389) 


39°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

is  longer  than  the  basin  of  the  Mississippi,  and  it  is  a question 
whether  it  has  not  more  cultivable  territory.  Upon  it  tens  of 
millions  of  cattle  and  sheep  are  pastured,  and  its  wheat-fields 
compete  with  ours  in  the  markets  of  Europe.  It  has  the  most 
extensive  plains  on  the  globe  and  a vast  expanse  of  fairly  good 
land. 

The  basin  of  the  Plate  is  a white  man’s  country;  the  basin  of 
the  Amazon  is  malarious,  being  in  the  tropics.  That  of  the 
Plate  is  largely  in  the  temperate  zone;  its  northern  parts  are 


ASUNCION,  PARAGUAY 


like  Louisiana  or  Florida,  and  in  the  south  the  summer  climate 
is  as  temperate  as  that  of  our  Middle  States.  It  is  the  Mississippi 
basin  reversed,  the  source  of  its  rivers  being  in  the  hot  country, 
where  there  are  coffee  and  sugar  lands  and  rubber  trees,  and  its 
mouth  in  the  cooler  lands  of  Uruguay  and  Argentina,  noted  for 
their  fields  of  wheat  and  corn. 

This  vast  basin  is  in  the  shape  of  a horseshoe,  with  the  open- 
ing towards  the  Atlantic;  the  Andes  and  the  strip  of  highlands 
that  crosses  Brazil  form  the  back  and  upper  rim  of  the  shoe, 


UP  THE  PARAGUAY  RIVER 


39  1 


while  the  slightly  sloping  plains  of  Patagonia  bound  it  on  the 
south.  In  it  are  included  the  best  lands  of  Argentina,  all  of 
Uruguay  and  Paraguay,  and  large  portions  of  Brazil  and  Bolivia. 
Most  of  it  has  been  built  up  by  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  system,  and 
to-day  the  same  rivers  are  still  at  their  great  work  of  earth- 
building. You  see  this  plainly  in  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  proper, 
which  is  more  a great  bay  of  liquid  mud  than  a river.  It  is  120 
miles  wide  at  the  Atlantic  and  narrows  down  to  29  miles  at 
Buenos  Aires;  the  width  at  Montevideo  is  about  65  miles. 

At  the  docks  at  Buenos  Aires  you  get  some  idea  of  the  river 
traffic  of  the  South  American  continent.  There  are  boats  of  all 
kinds  lying  there;  some  have  just  come  in  loaded  with  oranges, 
wood,  hides,  and  wool,  and  others  are  about  starting  out  with 
passengers  and  freight  for  the  interior.  Some  of  the  steamers 
are  on  their  way  up  the  Uruguay  river;  others  are  bound  for  the 
Paraguay  and  the  branches  of  the  Parana.  Upon  some  of  the 
ships  you  can  go  into  the  heart  of  Brazil,  a distance  of  more 
than  2,500  miles,  and  quite  large  steamers  will  take  you  up  to 
the  town  of  Asuncion.  There  are  two  lines  of  steamers  which 
have  a weekly  service  between  Buenos  Aires  and  Asuncion.  The 
ships  draw  about  ten  feet,  for  steamers  of  sixteen  feet  can  go  no 
farther  than  Rosario,  owing  to  the  sand-bars  of  the  Parana. 

We  see  it  sometimes  stated  that  the  Parana  system  is  such 
that  the  largest  ocean  steamers  can  ascend  it  far  into  the  interior 
of  South  America.  This  is  not  so.  My  ship,  the  Saturno,  which 
drew  only  ten  feet,  was  stopped  at  night  again  and  again,  fearing 
contact  with  the  sand-bars.  There  is  no  good  chart  of  the  Pa- 
rana river  and  it  is  as  changeable  as  the  Mississippi.  It  is  al- 
ways building  up  and  tearing  down  bars  and  islands  within  its 
channels.  The  waters  carry  so  much  mud  that  a snag  will  form 
a bar  and  a wreck  will  in  time  build  up  an  island.  One  of  the 
largest  islands  in  the  river  near  Rosario  originated  in  a sub- 
merged hay  barge,  and  farther  up  the  stream  there  are  hundreds 
of  islands  the  soil  of  which  has  gathered  about  the  water-logged 
trees  which  have  floated  down  from  the  forests  of  Paraguay  and 
Brazil. 

Let  us  in  imagination  take  a trip  through  the  thousand  is- 
lands of  the  Parana.  You  may  have  seen  the  thousand  islands 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  but  they  are  nothing  in  comparison  with 


392  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

the  myriad  islands  of  this  wonderful  river.  There  are,  indeed, 
so  many  islands  that  they  have  never  been  counted.  The  river 
for  hundreds  of  miles  is  a great  inland  sea,  so  wide  in  places 
that  among  the  islands  you  cannot  see  its  banks.  Some  of  the 
islands  are  covered  with  willows,  feathery  reeds  line  their  shores, 
and  gnarly  trees  hang  down  low  and  mirror  themselves  in  the 
water.  Others  farther  up  the  river  are  forest  grown.  Few  are 
cultivated,  although  it  has  been  said  that  there  is  enough  good 


THE  “ SATURNO  * STEAMER  ON  THE  PARANA  RIVER 

soil  upon  them  to  raise  food  for  all  Europe ; upon  a few  there 
are  cattle  and  sheep. 

Most  of  the  islands  are  great  fields  of  grass;  some  of  which 
are  not  fixed,  but  floating;  they  glide  by  our  steamer  down  the 
river  almost  as  fast  as  we  steam  on  our  way  up.  The  floating 
islands  are  called  camelots;  they  are  masses  of  grass,  weeds,  and 
flowers  which  the  rushing  floods  have  torn  from  their  founda- 
tions and  are  carrying  down  to  the  sea.  Some  are  so  firm  that 
they  will  support  a man,  and  upon  them  tigers,  jaguars,  and 
snakes  are  often  carried  to  the  islands  about  Buenos  Aires. 


UP  THE  PARAGUAY  RIVER 


393 


Just  after  leaving  Buenos  Aires  we  passed  through  the  delta 
of  the  Parana.  This  delta  is  about  20  miles  wide,  and  it  extends 
up  the  river  as  far  as  Rosario,  a distance  of  300  miles.  It  is 
peppered  with  islands,  some  of  which  are  covered  with  forests  of 
peach  trees,  and  others  with  gardens  kept  by  the  Italians  who 
supply  the  markets  of  Buenos  Aires.  Many  of  the  houses  are 
raised  upon  piles,  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  floods  and  the 
tides,  when  they  carry,  as  they  sometimes  do,  great  waves  in 
from  the  ocean. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  Parana  we  pass  the  island  of  Martin 
Gracia,  the  Gibraltar  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  which  once  belonged 
to  Uruguay,  but  which  is  now  the  property  of  the  Argentine  Re- 
public. It  has  a naval  school  and  a fort  upon  it,  the  batteries  of 
which  are  worked  by  electricity.  It  is  one  of  the  historic  points 
of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  and  as  we  go  past  it  we  recall  the  fact  that 
the  tour  we  are  about  to  make  was  first  made  by  the  white  man 
who  was  the  earliest  to  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  the  continent  of 
North  America.  Sebastian  Cabot,  in  1526,  ploughed  his  way 
through  this  same  labyrinth  of  islands,  and  after  a long  voyage 
on  the  Parana  reached  the  Paraguay  and  ascended  it  to  a point 
some  distance  beyond  Asuncion. 

If  Sebastian  Cabot  could  take  a trip  on  the  boats  which  now 
sail  up  the  Paraguay,  he  would  think  them  more  wonderful  than 
anything  he  saw  in  his  travels.  His  voyage  was  made  in  a sail- 
ing boat;  ours  is  in  a comfortable  steamer  of  800  tons.  It  took 
him  months  to  sail  up  the  river,  but  we  make  the  trip  in  six 
days.  His  lights  were  tallow  dips,  ours  are  incandescent  globes, 
lit  by  electric  dynamos.  The  Saturno  was  built  in  Glasgow  and 
it  is  as  comfortable  as  the  average  passenger  steamer  of  the 
Great  Lakes  or  the  Mississippi.  The  cabins  are  good  and  the 
dining-room  is  like  a parlour.  The  fare  is  not  expensive,  $60 

paying  for  the  round  trip,  or  an  average  of  about  five  gold  dol- 

lars per  day. 

The  meals  are  not  bad,  but  the  Yankee  stomach  finds  it  hard 
to  accustom  itself  to  the  times  at  which  they  are  served.  The 
first  breakfast  given  on  vessels  is  nothing  but  three  swallows  of 
coffee  and  a crust  of  bread  and  butter.  At  11  a.  m.  a real  break- 
fast is  served,  and  at  6 p.  m.  comes  dinner.  Sandwiched  between 
luncheon  and  bedtime  there  is  tea  at  3 p.  m.  and  at  9 p.  m.  The 

breakfast  at  1 1 a.  m.  and  the  dinner  are  much  the  same.  The 


394  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


breakfast  begins  with  soup  and  ends  with  fruit,  cheese,  and 
coffee.  As  to  the  dinner,  — well,  here  is  a sample  dinner  bill  of 
fare  : 

Ox  Tail  Soup 

Bologna  Sausage  with  Potato  Salad 
Puchero  (the  meat  that  was  cooked  to  make  the  soup) 

Fish 

Curried  chicken  and  rice  Beefsteak  and  Potatoes 

Cheese  Guava  Jelly 

English  Walnuts,  Almonds,  and  Raisins 
Oranges  Black  Coffee 

The  meals  are  very  much  alike,  but  we  always  had  a variety 
as  great  as  that  of  the  above  bill  of  fare.  Two  kinds  of  wine 
are  served  with  breakfast  and  dinner  without  extra  charge. 
Dinner  is  the  chief  event  of  the  day,  and  the  passengers  prepare 
for  it.  The  men  put  on  their  black  clothes  and  most  of  the 
women  wear  evening  dresses.  The  passengers  are  well  dressed, 
but  their  manners  are  peculiar.  Some  of  the  men  who  wear  kid 
gloves  all  day  and  put  on  black  coats  for  dinner  eat  with  their 
knives  and  tuck  their  napkins  in  at  the  collar  as  though  they 
were  babies  and  needed  bibs.  The  toothpick  is  universally  used 
between  the  courses.  The  men  smoke  cigarettes  during  the 
meals  and  with  their  coffee.  I notice  that  one  apparently  ele- 
gant lady  makes  no  scruple  about  expectorating  on  the  floor 
between  bites.  One  old  Argentine  papa,  who  has  two  pretty 
knife-eating  daughters,  drinks  his  soft-boiled  eggs  out  of  a glass. 
He  also  polishes  his  plate  with  his  napkin  at  every  course,  but  I 
don’t  blame  him,  as  I do  that  myself;  it  is  a necessity  on  the 
Parana.  Most  of  our  passengers  are  rich  Argentines,  on  their 
way  to  Paraguay  for  the  winter;  they  go  there  for  the  season,  as 
we  go  to  Florida,  to  get  away  from  the  cold.  All  speak  Spanish, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  ourselves,  there  are  no  English  or 
Americans. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Rosario  we  entered  the  wheat  region  of 
the  Parana  basin.  We  passed  big  mills  and  grain  elevators  as 
well  as  towns  which  owe  their  existence  to  the  wheat-fields. 
We  passed  between  the  provinces  of  Sante  Fe  on  the  left  and 
Entre  Rios  and  Corrientes  on  the  right.  Sante  Fe  wheat  is 
known  all  over  the  world.  The  province  is  larger  than  New 
York,  and  its  business  is  wheat-raising. 


(396)  INDIANS  OF  PARAGUAY 


UP  THE  PARAGUAY  RIVER 


397 


Entre  Rios  and  Corrientes  are  bounded  on  the  east  by  the 
Uruguay  River,  being  embraced  by  the  Uruguay  and  Parana. 
This  fact  has  given  them  the  title  of  the  (<  Argentine  Mesopo- 
tamia.” They  are  very  rich,  and  their  soil  is  of  wonderful  fer- 
tility. Each  is  of  about  the  size  of  South  Carolina.  Entre  Rios 
is  growing  very  fast;  it  now  has  about  250,000  people,  and  upon 
its  oastures  4,000,000  cows  and  about  5,000,000  sheep  are  feeding. 
This  is  an  average  of  20  sheep  and  15  cows  for  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  in  the  province.  At  five  to  the  family  it  would  be  100 
sheep  and  75  cows  per  family.  Suppose  we  had  a State  every 
family  of  which  possessed  100  sheep  and  75  cows;  it  would  be 
the  banner  State  of  the  Union.  The  stock,  however,  is  not  equally 
divided,  and  much  of  it  is  in  the  hands  of  large  holders. 

The  Parana  is  one  of  the  grandest  rivers  in  the  world.  Its 
beauties  increase  as  you  travel  up  its  waters,  and  the  quiet  pic- 
turesqueness of  its  surroundings  grows  upon  you.  The  sunsets 
are  gorgeous,  painting  the  clouds  in  every  colour  and  shade  of 
rosy  pink  and  gorgeous  red,  and  often  making  a great  golden 
canopy  over  the  dark  blue  Parana.  The  morning  sun  strikes  the 
dewdrops  upon  the  fresh  green  fields  and  feathery  grasses  and 
gives  you  a shower  of  diamonds  on  an  emerald  field,  while  at 
night  the  heavens  and  earth  are  clad  in  the  wondrous  glories  of 
the  semi-tropics.  You  look  among  the  stars  for  the  Southern 
Cross  and  wonder  at  the  tropical  brilliancy  of  the  Milky  Way. 

As  you  travel  towards  the  equator  the  vegetation  changes;  the 
trees  are  larger,  the  grasses  are  more  luxuriant,  and  the  islands 
have  great  bunches  of  feathery  green  and  ferny  bamboos.  The 
country  grows  wilder;  now  you  see  a white  farmhouse  cut  out 
of  the  forest,  and  now  stop  at  a little  town  of  thatched  huts  and 
one-story  brick  buildings  roofed  with  red  tiles,  with  a church  spire 
invariably  rising  above  them.  After  three  days’  journey  you  come 
to  Corrientes,  and  then  leave  the  Parana  for  the  river  Paraguay. 

The  Paraguay  is  not  so  wide  as  the  Parana.  Between  Cor- 
rientes and  Asuncion,  a distance  of  two  or  three  hundred  miles, 
the  banks  are  not  wider,  I judge,  than  those  of  the  Mississippi 
above  St.  Louis,  but  the  waters  are  equally  deep.  The  river 
seems  perfectly  navigable.  You  often  go  so  close  to  the  banks 
that  you  can  see  the  birds  of  brilliant  plumage  which  inhabit  the 
woods.  There  are  many  crocodiles,  and  you  now  and  then  get 
a shot  at  one  as  it  scuds  through  the  water  to  swim  out  of  the 


398  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

way  of  the  boat.  There  is  plenty  of  shooting;  flocks  of  wild 
ducks  rise  from  the  bends  of  the  river,  and  from  the  lagoons,  at 
every  few  miles,  curious  birds  fly  about  the  steamer.  Along  the 
left  bank  of  the  river,  in  the  Chaco,  there  is  little  else  than  vir- 
gin forests,  and  you  are  told  that  the  woods  are  inhabited  by 
jaguars,  and  that  you  could  not  travel  a mile  back  from  the 


ALONG  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  PARAGUAY 


coast  without  meeting  tapirs,  peccaries,  monkeys,  and  wild  hogs. 
The  Paraguay  side  is  also  wild,  save  that,  here  and  there,  you 
pass  little  towns  at  some  of  which  the  ships  stop  to  load  and  un- 
load freight.  You  now  get  your  first  sight  of  the  Paraguayan 
people,  of  whom  you  meet  more  and  more  as  you  sail  onward, 
and  finally  come  to  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  Asuncion,  at  the  wharves 
of  the  capital  of  Paraguay. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 

A Walk  through  the  Capital  of  Paraguay  — A Town  older  than  any  in 
North  America,  but  still  new  — Its  Telephones  and  Telephone 
Girls  — A General  View  of  Paraguay  — Its  Cities,  Towns,  and  Vil- 
lages— Its  Queer  Colonies,  one  of  which  was  named  after  Presi- 
dent Hayes. 

ome  with  me  this  morning  and  have  a look  at  the  capital 
of  Paraguay.  It  is  now  summer;  the  people  are  moving 
about  in  cottons  or  linens,  and  at  midday  the  earth 
seems  to  steam.  The  children  go  to  school  very  early  and  every- 
one rests  or  doses  at  noon.  The  mornings  and  evenings,  how- 
ever, are  pleasant  and  we  shall  be  comfortably  cool  in  the  mule 
cars  which  take  us  to  all  parts  of  the  city. 

But  first  let  me  say  a word  about  Asuncion.  She  is  the  odd- 
est municipal  maiden  on  the  South  American  continent.  She  is 
the  social,  political,  and  industrial  mistress  of  all  things  Para- 
guayan. She  has  the  government  buildings,  the  colleges,  the 
banks,  and  chief  business  houses,  and  still  she  is  so  small  that 
she  might  be  hypodermically  injected  into  the  cheek  of  Chicago, 
and  would  hardly  raise  a pimple  on  that  fair  lady’s  face. 

Asuncion  has  only  about  30,000  people.  Her  buildings  are 
almost  all  small;  they  are  chiefly  one-story  houses,  and  outside 
the  government  structures  there  are  not  200  of  them  more  than 
30  feet  high.  The  Paraguayan  who  lives  in  a two-story  house 
struts  about  like  a king,  while  the  owner  of  a three-story  block 
is  a nabob. 

Still  this  maiden,  Asuncion,  is  wonderfully  beautiful.  Mother 
Nature  has  clothed  her  in  the  brightest  of  dresses.  In  her  gar- 
dens lemons  and  oranges  grow;  great  palm  trees  throw  their 
shadows  upon  her,  and  the  amorous  waters  of  two  mighty  rivers 
lave  her  feet.  She  is  seated  on  the  high  east  bank  of  the  Para- 
guay river,  just  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  winding  Pilcomayo, 

("09) 


400  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

which  has  flowed  down  from  the  Bolivian  Andes  1,500  miles  to 
get  to  her.  She  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  west  border  of 
Paraguay  proper,  in  a good  position  to  command  the  whole 
country  of  which  she  is  the  capital. 

I get  my  best  idea  of  Paraguay  by  thinking  of  Illinois.  It 
lies  on  the  South  American  continent  in  much  the  same  position 
that  Illinois  does  in  North  America.  It  is  at  the  junction  of 
two  rivers;  along  its  west  side  is  the  Paraguay  river,  which  cor- 
responds to  the  Mississippi,  and  on  its  south  and  southeast  is  the 


THE  CAPITAL  OF  PARAGUAY 


Parana,  corresponding  to  the  Ohio.  Both  the  Paraguay  and  the 
Parana  are  navigable  for  large  river  steamers,  supplying  a broad 
waterway  from  here  to  the  Atlantic,  similar  to  that  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi in  its  course  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Paraguay  proper  is 
just  about  as  large  as  Illinois.  It  is  375  miles  long  and  about 
200  miles  wide,  including  all  the  land  lying  east  of  the  Para- 
guay river.  There  is  a vast  wilderness  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream,  called  the  Chaco.  This  is  the  wild  west  of  Paraguay. 
It  is  inhabited  by  Indians  and  wild  animals,  and  is  said  to  pos- 
sess vast  forests  and  extensive  pastures,  but  not  much  of  it  is  as 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 


40 


yet  explored.  Paraguay  proper  is  not  unlike  Illinois  in  character. 
It  has  excellent  soil  and  good  pastures.  The  face  of  the  country 
is  rolling;  in  some  places  there  are  low  mountains  which  furnish 
numerous  streams,  so  that  you  can  hardly  fence  off  a farm  with- 
out including  good  water. 

It  is  in  Paraguay  proper  that  the  greater  part  of  the  people 
of  Paraguay  live.  They  are  the  offspring  of  the  Indians,  united 
to  some  of  the  best  of  the  Spaniards  who  settled  South  America. 
One  of  the  first  cities  established  on  the  continent  was  Asuncion; 


COUNTRY  CART,  PARAGUAY 


it  was  built  seventy  years  before  John  Smith  landed  at  Jamestown, 
and  the  Spanish-Indian  babies  born  then  were  gray-haired  before 
Boston  sprang  into  being.  Paraguay  was  for  years  the  leader  of 
wealth,  civilization,  and  culture  in  this  part  of  the  world,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  close  of  our  Civil  War  that  it  fell  out  of  the 
race.  It  then  had  a fight  with  its  neighbouring  republics,  Brazil, 
Uruguay,  and  Argentina,  which  lasted  five  years  and  killed  off 
almost  all  the  men.  This  ruined  the  country.  A report  went 
abroad  that  it  was  desolate,  and  the  bulk  of  the  European  immi- 
gration since  then  has  gone  to  Argentina,  Uruguay,  and  Brazil. 


402  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

There  are  to-day  less  than  10,000  foreigners  in  all  Paraguay.  I 
have  an  estimate  from  the  Secretary  of  State  which  shows  that  it 
has  only  5,000  Argentines,  2,000  Italians,  600  Brazilians,  and  800 
Germans.  The  remainder  are  French,  Swiss,  Americans,  and  Eng- 
lish. In  addition  to  these  there  are  600,000  native  whites  and 
mixed  breeds;  and  there  are  about  130,000  pure  Indians.  There 
is  so  much  Indian  blood  mixed  with  the  white  that  it  is  hard  to 
tell  where  the  red  man’s  blood  ends  and  that  of  the  Caucasian 
begins.  You  see  a dash  of  gingerbread  in  the  complexions  of 


PORT  OF  ASUNCION,  PARAGUAY 


most  of  the  people,  and  the  language  generally  used  is  that  of 
the  Guarani  Indians.  It  is  a beautiful  language,  more  soft  and 
melodious  than  even  the  Spanish,  and  is  used  by  everyone  out- 
side the  cities. 

I have  said  that  Asuncion  has  30,000  population.  The  aver- 
age Paraguayan  considers  it  a very  large  city.  In  my  travels  I 
have  gone  through  the  best-settled  parts  of  the  country  and  am 
surprised  at  the  fewness  of  the  people.  There  are  many  villages, 
but  only  some  very  small  cities.  The  cities  are  much  smaller 
than  the  books  would  lead  one  to  think.  The  <(  Statesman’s.  Year 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 


4°3 


Book”  mentions  a number  as  containing  from  5,000  to  20,000  in- 
habitants. Those  I have  seen  have  not  one-third  the  number 
claimed.  I spent  some  time  in  Villa  Rica,  which  is  in  the  in- 
terior, about  a hundred  miles  east  of  Asuncion.  It  is  put  down 
as  having  19,000,  but  I venture  to  say  that  it  has  not  one-third 
that  number.  Villa  Concepcion,  which  is  250  miles  north  of 
Asuncion  on  the  Paraguay  river,  has  certainly  not  10,000  people, 
and  Villa  Encarnacion,  the  largest  town  in  south  Paraguay,  is 
not  nearly  so  large. 

The  towns  are  composed  of  thatched  huts  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  feet  square.  The  smaller  cities  have  one  or  two 


"THE  HOUSES  ARE  OF  MUD  AND  POLES,  THATCHED" 

streets  of  one-story  brick  dwellings,  the  walls  of  which  are  cov- 
ered with  stucco  and  roofed  with  red  tiles.  Some  have  walls  of 
stone  and  others  are  roofed  with  palm  bark.  The  larger  cities 
have  parks  or  plazas,  but  outside  Asuncion  none  has  paved 
streets  or  any  modern  improvements.  Even  Asuncion  is  still 
lighted  by  coal  oil,  and  but  few  of  its  people  ever  heard  of  a 
sewer.  The  sanitary  arrangements  of  many  of  its  houses  are 
filthy,  those  of  the  chief  hotel,  for  instance,  being  dirty  and  un- 
healthy in  the  extreme. 

Although  Asuncion  is  older  than  any  city  in  North  America, 
it  appears  delightfully  new  and  bright;  its  streets  cross  one  an- 


404  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

other  at  right  angles,  and  they  so  slope  toward  the  river  that 
every  good  rain  gives  them  a washing.  They  have  sixty  inches 
of  rain  here  every  year,  and  when  it  does  rain  it  pours.  Only  a 
few  of  the  streets  are  paved;  most  of  them  are  of  red  sand,  so 
that  the  city  has  a rose-tinted  foundation. 

Let  us  notice  the  houses.  They  are  built  close  to  the  side- 
walks in  solid  blocks,  forming  one-story  walls  along  the  street, 
with  here  and  there  a door  or  an  iron -barred  window.  You  can 
tell  the  different  houses  by  their  colours;  some  are  painted  rose 
pink,  some  sky  blue,  some  blood-red,  and  others  of  all  shades 
of  yellow  and  green.  We  are  now  going  towards  the  post 
office;  it  is  of  a light  lavender  tint.  On  our  way  we  pass  a 
market-house  painted  rose  pink,  and  a little  farther  on  there  is 
a cathedral  the  colour  of  rich  Jersey  cream.  Even  the  public 
buildings  are  painted.  The  president’s  palace  has  a tinted  ex- 
terior, the  houses  of  congress  are  of  a delicate  lilac,  while  the 
official  newspaper  is  printed  in  a monastery-like  structure  of  In- 
dian red. 

It  seems  odd  to  think  of  newspapers  in  Paraguay;  but  there 
are  newsboys  everywhere,  poking  their  dailies  under  your  nose. 
The  papers  are  printed  in  Spanish,  and  sell  for  about  two 
cents  of  our  money  a copy.  They  are  folios  of  the  old  blanket- 
sheet  shape,  containing  little  news  but  huge  advertisements;  here 
is  one  that  has  telegraphic  dispatches,  including  cables  from 
Washington  and  Rome.  Asuncion  has  a telegraph  line  connect- 
ing it  with  Buenos  Aires,  whence  its  dispatches  are  sent  to  all 
parts  of  the  world.  There  are  also  wires  to  the  interior,  which 
are  patronized  to  such  an  extent  that  46,000  messages  were  re- 
ceived last  year. 

Asuncion  is  equipped  with  telephones,  which  are  owned  by  a 
stock  company  that  pays  dividends  of  twenty-four  per  cent  per 
annum,  though  its  telephone  rates  are  lower  than  any  in  the 
United  States.  The  company  charges  business  houses  $2  gold 
per  month,  and  for  telephones  in  residences  the  monthly  charge 
is  only  $1.50  in  gold.  A visit  to  the  central  station  is  an  inter- 
esting sight.  The  <(  hello  girls  w of  Paraguay  have  even  sweeter 
voices  than  our  own  hello  girls,  and  some  of  them  are  quite 
pretty.  Most  of  them  go  about  in  their  bare  feet,  and  their  low- 
neck  dresses  are  as  white  as  the  orange  blossoms  which  they  wear 
in  their  hair.  There  are  orange  trees  just  back  of  the  office,  so 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 


405 


that  the  flowers  are  ready  at  hand.  The  girls  are  standing  up  at 
their  work,  making  the  connections  by  putting  pegs  in  and  out 
of  a wall  of  numbered  holes,  thereby  bringing  together  the  vari- 
ous customers.  I ask  the  manager  as  to  their  salaries  and  am 
told  that  each  girl  receives  about  $6  gold  per  month,  or  $1.50  per 
week. 

We  see  tram-cars  on  the  principal  streets  of  Asuncion.  The 
cars  are  open  at  the  sides  and  are  so  roughly  made  that  they 
seem  to  have  been  chopped  out  with  a hatchet.  Each  is  drawn 
by  three  mules,  which  go  on  the  dead  gallop,  and  the  cars  run 
so  far  apart  that  you  often  have  to  wait  half  an  hour  for  a ride. 
The  different  lines  connect  the  wharves  with  the  railroad  depot 
and  with  the  suburban  towns.  They  are  well  patronized,  but  are 
not  paying  investments. 

It  is  the  same  with  Paraguay’s  only  steam  railroad.  This  was 
built  under  a guarantee  from  the  government  by  English  con- 
tractors. The  English  made  money  out  of  the  job,  but  the  road 
has  paid  no  dividends  since  it  was  opened.  It  extends  about 
156  miles  into  the  interior,  connecting  Villa  Rica  with  Asuncion, 
and  will  be  extended,  it  is  said,  down  to  the  Parana  river. 
Another  line  which  is  talked  of,  but  which  I fear  will  not 
soon  be  constructed,  is  to  run  from  Asuncion  to  the  Atlantic 
port  of  Santos,  Brazil.  Such  a road,  while  very  expensive  to 
build,  would  open  much  good  country  and  would  probably  have 
a large  traffic. 

One  of  the  strangest  things  in  Paraguay  is  its  money;  it  is  a 
paper  currency,  poorly  printed,  and  on  poor  material.  It  now 
comes  from  Germany,  and  is  not  nearly  as  good  as  the  old  paper 
money  which  was  made  in  the  United  States.  The  bank  notes 
are  of  all  denominations,  from  five  cents  to  a hundred  dollars, 
and  they  are  at  such  a discount  that  a Paraguayan  dollar  is  now 
worth  about  thirteen  cents  of  our  money.  The  banks  of  Asun- 
cion handle  the  (<  stuff  ” by  the  basketful.  They  cord  it  up  like 
rags,  but  their  profits  from  it  are  large.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  me 
that  there  is  a chance  for  some  of  our  idle  American  funds  in 
banking  in  Paraguay.  The  usual  rate  of  interest  outside  the 
banks  is  fifteen  per  cent,  and  in  the  banks  you  cannot  borrow 
money  for  less  than  one  per  cent  a month.  The  usual  discount 
rate  is  twelve  per  cent,  and  a bank  gives  no  favours  without  re- 
ceiving a money  compensation.  As  a result,  the  banks  pay  large 
S.  A. — 26 


406  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

dividends.  Take,  as  an  example,  the  Mercantile  Bank  of  Para- 
guay, upon  which  I have  letters  of  credit;  this  bank  paid  a divi- 
dend of  sixteen  per  cent  last  year,  and  its  president  tells  me  it 
has  never  paid  less  than  ten  per  cent.  Its  capital  is  only  $120,- 
000  in  gold,  and  yet  its  business  last  year  amounted  to  $2,000,000. 
The  Territorial  Bank,  which  has  a capital  of  $70,000,  paid  a divi- 
dend of  twelve  per  cent  last  year,  and  the  private  banks  have 
done  even  better.  From  these  figures  it  will  be  seen  that  it 
takes  quite  a sum  of  money  to  do  the  business  of  Paraguay. 


THE  POST  OFFICE,  ASUNCION 


There  is  now  $8,000,000  or  $10,000,000  of  Paraguayan  money  in 
circulation,  the  value  of  which  the  government  is  trying  to  in- 
crease by  withdrawing  a certain  amount  of  the  paper  every  year. 
It  takes  about  $5,000,000  annually  to  <(  run  ” the  government,  and 
the  exports  and  imports  annually  amount  to  about  $14,000,000  in 
gold. 

As  to  the  banks,  one  of  the  most  striking  financial  institutions 
of  Paraguay  is  the  Agricultural  Bank,  which  is  managed  by  the 
government;  it  is  a bank. and  an  agricultural  department  com- 
bined. Its  business  is  to  help  along  agriculture  by  introducing 


IN  THE  CITY  OF  ASUNCION 


407 


seeds  and  tools,  and  by  loaning  money  to  farmers  on  farm  prop- 
erty. It  has  a capital  of  about  $500,000  in  gold.  It  loans  on 
about  half  the  assessed  value  of  the  property,  charging  what  is 
here  considered  the  very  low  interest  rate,  viz.,  eight  per  cent. 
Connected  with  it  there  is  a warehouse  filled  with  farm  imple- 
ments and  seeds.  The  officials  say  that  the  institution  is  a suc- 
cess, although  such  banks  in  other  parts  of  South  America  have 
been  failures.  This  banking  scheme  is  one  by  which  the  Para- 
guayan government  is  trying  to  build  up  its  farming  interests. 
The  government  also  offers  inducements  to  immigrants,  giving 
each  new  settler  some  agricultural  machinery,  eighty  acres  of 
land,  and  a loan  of  twelve  cents  per  month  for  seven  months 
for  each  adult  and  nine  cents  for  each  child.  It  gives  each  im- 
migrant a milch  cow,  oxen,  and  seeds,  and  also  agrees  to  pay  his 
passage  from  Buenos  Aires  to  Asuncion.  There  are  strings  at- 
tached to  some  of  the  above  gifts  by  which  the  immigrants  pay 
back  in  instalments  all  they  receive  outside  the  land. 

The  immigrants  who  come  to  Paraguay  settle  in  colonies,  and 
not  upon  their  farms.  There  are  scattered  over  the  country  per- 
haps a-half  dozen  colonies  composed  of  different  nationalities. 
There  is  one  not  far  from  Asuncion,  called  Bernardino,  which  is 
populated  by  Germans.  There  is  another  of  Australians,  who  got 
up  a brotherly  love  scheme  and  came  to  Paraguay  to  live  after 
the  Golden  Rule.  They  began  enthusiastically  by  chartering  a 
ship,  each  selling  his  property  and  putting  the  money  into  the 
general  fund.  In  order  to  cut  down  the  expense,  they  divided 
the  work  on  the  voyage  among  the  different  members  of  the 
colony : they  had,  however,  hardly  left  Australia  before  the  Golden 
Rule  was  kicked  higher  than  Gilderoy’s  kite,  and  when  it  fell  it 
came  down  in  a thousand  pieces.  These  brotherly  and  sisterly 
lovers  acquired  a pleasant  way  of  throwing  the  dishes  at  one 
another  during  the  voyage,  and  by  the  time  they  reached  Asun- 
cion they  were  quarrelling  with  one  another  as  discordantly  as 
strange  parrots.  As  a result,  they  soon  became  disgusted  with 
themselves,  and  their  lands  have  now  been  re-divided. 

A colony  of  special  interest  to  the  United  States  is  situated 
just  across  the  river  from  Asuncion,  in  the  Chaco.  This  was 
named  after  President  Hayes,  because  he  decided  a territorial 
question  between  Argentina  and  Paraguay  in  favour  of  the  latter. 
The  colony  is  called  Villa  Hayes,  but  they  pronounce  it  here  as 


408  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

though  it  were  spelt  Villa  Eyes,  for  that  is  the  way  the  Span- 
iards pronounce  Hayes.  This  colony,  named  after  our  late  good 
President,  who,  it  will  be  remembered,  shuddered  when  it  was 
proposed  to  put  Roman  punch  on  the  White  House  table,  is 
largely  engaged  in  cultivating  sugar  cane  and  distilling  its  juice 
into  a rum  so  villainous  that  it  will  kill  at  forty  rods.  Inasmuch 
as  rum  is  an  article  that  is  always  in  demand  in  all  parts  of 
Paraguay,  the  colony  is  probably  in  a good  financial  condition. 


VIEW  ON  THE  UPPER  PARANA,  PARAGUAY 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY 


Strange  Customs  of  a Land  where  there  are  more  Women  than  Men  — 
The  War  with  Brazil,  that  Killed  off  the  Men  — How  the  Women 
Manage  the  Country  — Their  Business  Ability  — A Visit  to  the 
Markets  — Orange  Girls  and  Butcher  Women  — A Look  into  a Para- 
guayan Home — Paraguay  Tobacco,  used  by  Women  and  Children,  who 
both  Smoke  and  Chew. 


Paraguay  is  the  paradise  of  South  America.  Its  climate  is 
delightful ; its  semi-tropical  vegetation  is  as  luxuriant  as 
that  of  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  it  has  about  three 
Eves  to  every  Adam.  I have  never  been  in  a country  where 
there  are  so  many  women.  They  swarm;  they  walk  by  you  and 
with  you  on  the  highways  and  byways,  and  there  are  so  many 
that  you  find  it  difficult  at  times  to  get  out  of  their  sight. 

The  women  of  Paraguay  are  so  much  in  the  majority  that 
they  do  the  work  of  the  country;  they  are  the  buyers  and  sellers 
of  every  community;  outside  the  cities  the  men  are  the  drones. 
Any  bachelor  in  the  United  States  can  find  a wife  in  Paraguay 
if  he  wants  one,  for  the  men  are  now  so  few  that  any  two-legged 
animal  of  the  masculine  gender  will  here  be  greedily  pounced 
upon.  The  sexes  were  once  about  equally  divided,  but  Paraguay 
had  a war  which  killed  off  the  men.  This  occurred  before  the 
close  of  our  trouble  between  the  North  and  the  South;  at  that 
time  Paraguay  was  the  leading  country  in  this  part  of  the  world ; 
it  was  about  the  richest  in  South  America,  and  its  wealth  and 
influence  angered  Argentina,  Uruguay,  and  Brazil.  They  com- 
bined against  it  and  their  joint  army  attacked  the  Para- 
guayans. The  struggle  lasted  five  years,  but  it  ended  in  the 
wiping  out,  as  it  were,  of  the  Paraguayan  men.  It  is  said  that 
100,000  of  them  died  in  battle,  and  that  thousands  of  women  and 
children  were  starved  to  death.  It  is  difficult  to  obtain  accurate 
figures  in  any  South  American  country,  but,  according  to  the  best 

(409) 


410  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

estimates,  the  population  of  Paraguay  was  so  cut  down  by  this 
war  that  there  was  only  one  man  to  six  women,  while  another 
statistician  states  that  three-fourths  of  all  the  people  in  Paraguay, 
numbering  about  800,000,  were  destroyed.  When  the  war  ended 
there  were  but  200,000  left,  of  whom  only  25,000  were  men  and 
106,000  were  women  over  fifteen  years  of  age;  the  remainder  were 
children.  Paraguay  thus  became  a land  of  women,  and  nature 
seems  to  be  keeping  it  so.  Since  the  war  occurred  I have  been 
told  that  more  girls  have  been  born  every  year  than  boys.  In 
Asuncion  the  girl  births  exceed  the  boy  births  by  more  than  five 
to  the  hundred,  and  outside  the  city  the  percentage  of  girl  babies 
is  even  greater. 

Most  of  the  women  of  Paraguay  are  poor;  many  of  them  are 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water;  but  there  are  some  who 
are  rich.  There  are  class  distinctions  here  as  everywhere,  and 
the  people  of  the  better  classes  dress  and  act  much  the  same  as 
do  those  in  other  parts  of  the  continent.  Paraguayan  high-class 
ladies  wear  clothes  not  unlike  those  of  our  American  girls.  They 
wear  bonnets  or  hats  when  out  on  the  streets,  and  a few  of  them 
actually  import  their  dresses  from  Paris.  They  speak  Spanish 
when  in  society, — at  least,  when  on  dress  parade, — and  some  are 
so  well  educated  that  they  are  able  to  read  both  English  and 
French.  Such  women  are  usually  interested  in  politics,  and, 
through  their  husbands,  have  much  influence  on  what  is  done  by 
the  government.  They  are  good  housekeepers,  excellent  wives, 
and  are,  I may  say,  the  equals  of  their  sisters  in  any  part  of  this 
continent. 

Many  of  the  Paraguayan  women  are  very  good  looking.  This 
is  true  of  all  classes,  but  especially  so  of  the  young.  The  typical 
Paraguayan  maiden  is  a trifle  under  middle  height.  She  is  as 
straight  as  an  arrow  and  as  limber  as  a willow  tree  branch, 
though  inclined  to  the  voluptuous  in  form.  Her  complexion  is  of 
the  brunette  order,  and  sometimes  of  the  reddish-brown  of  the 
Guarani  Indians,  for  she  has,  as  a rule,  more  or  less  Indian 
blood  in  her  veins.  When  the  Spaniards  came  here  the  country 
was  inhabited  by  the  gentle  and  semi-civilized  Guaranis.  The 
two  races  intermarried;  their  descendants  took  wives  from  the 
same  tribes,  so  that  to-day  there  are  comparatively  few  Para- 
guayans who  have  not  a large  proportion  of  Guarani  blood.  The 
Indian  mixture  has  resulted  in  the  adoption  of  many  Indian 


THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY  41  I 

customs,  and  the  language  most  spoken  by  the  people  to-day  is 
the  Guarani.  In  the  country  districts  nothing  else  is  used, 
though  there  are  notices  on  the  walls  of  the  Asuncion  schools 
that  scholars  must  not  speak  Guarani  during  school  hours.  The 
Guarani  is  a soft  language,  and  the  Paraguayan  girls  have  sweet 
voices. 

One  of  the  chief  industries  of  the  Paraguayan  women  is  lace- 
making. It  is  true  that  the  lower  classes  do  all  kinds  of  work, 
but  all  the  women  make  beautiful  lace : they  spin  as  delicately 
as  spiders,  and  every  house  is  full  of  beautiful  cobwebs  made  by 
its  women.  They  make  lace  handkerchiefs,  fichus,  and  embroid- 
eries, and  weave  great  hammocks  of  thread  so  fine  and  so  strong 
that  they  will  often  outlast  a generation.  They  have  patterns  of 
their  own  which  they  have  taken  from  nature;  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  is  called  the  cobweb  pattern,  the  threads  of  which  are 
as  delicately  joined  as  though  made  by  one  of  the  big  spiders  to 
be  found  here  in  the  semi-tropics.  Some  of  these  handkerchiefs 
are  of  silk,  others  are  of  linen,  while  others  are  of  fibre  grown  in 
the  country.  It  takes  a long  time  to  weave  them,  but  there  are 
so  many  at  work  that  they  are  wonderfully  cheap,  so  that  an  ar- 
ticle upon  which  a month  or  so  has  been  spent  can  be  bought 
for  five  dollars  and  upwards  of  our  money.  A good  ham- 
mock will  cost  you  ten  dollars,  and  a shawl  perhaps  twice  that 
amount. 

Paraguay  is  a land  of  oranges.  It  is  perhaps  the  only  place 
in  the  world  where  the  orange  grows  wild.  There  are  oranges 
in  every  thicket  and  in  almost  every  forest;  the  villages  are 
built  in  orange  groves,  and  there  are  so  many  oranges  that  they 
often  rot  on  the  ground.  The  fruit  is  delicious;  it  is,  I believe, 
the  best  of  its  kind,  and  is  eaten  by  everyone.  The  orange 
girls  are  among  the  picturesque  features  of  Paraguay.  You  meet 
women  peddling  oranges  at  the  stations;  you  find  them  surrounded 
by  piles  of  golden  fruit  in  every  market;  and  all  along  the  Para- 
guay river  they  are  to  be  seen  carrying  oranges  to  the  boats, 
which  are  to  convey  them  to  the  markets  of  the  south.  It  is 
estimated  that  60,000,000  oranges  are  annually  shipped  down 
the  Paraguay  river  to  Buenos  Aires,  and  the  loading  of  the 
fruit  is  one  of  the  sights  of  the  voyage.  As  we  came  up  to 
Asuncion  we  found  mountains  of  oranges  on  the  shores  at  every 
town,  with  hundreds  of  Paraguay  girls  kneeling  before  them 


412  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

packing  them  in  baskets,  while  other  hundreds  were  carrying 
them  to  the  steamers. 

The  scene  is  one  that  you  cannot  witness  outside  the  country. 
Stop  with  me  at  Villa  Pilar  and  look  at  it.  Villa  Pilar,  has  about 
10,000  inhabitants:  it  lies  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Paraguay  river, 
a day  or  two’s  ride  below  Asuncion.  As  the  steamer  stops  at  the 
landing  we  notice  that  every  garden  has  its  orange  tree  and  that 
the  trees  shade  the  streets.  We  see  ox  carts  coming  in  from  the 
orchards  creaking  under  their  golden  loads.  Each  cart  holds 
about  5,000  oranges,  piled  loosely  within  it  like  so  many  potatoes. 
The  driver  directs  his  oxen  to  the  piles  of  oranges  on  the  bank, 
backs  his  cart  against  one  of  them,  and  dumps  out  the  fruit  just 
as  our  workmen  dump  dirt  when  repairing  the  roads.  Oranges 
are  indeed  worth  little  more  than  dirt  here;  that  whole  cart  full 
will  sell  for  $5,  and  one  can  buy  all  he  wants  for  two  cents. 
And  yet  every  orange  is  counted;  those  women  on  their  knees, 
who  are  putting  the  fruit  into  the  baskets,  count  as  they  work, 
and  a careful  tally  is  kept. 

The  women  who  carry  the  oranges  on  board  balance  their 
loads  on  their  heads,  and  walk  with  them  over  a gangway  to  the 
steamer.  There  are  a hundred  women  at  this  w'ork  now,  and  the 
ship  is  already  so  loaded  with  oranges  that  a wire  netting  has 
been  stretched  about  its  deck  like  a fence  and  the  fruit  piled  up 
within  it.  The  deck  is  so  filled  with  oranges,  in  fact,  that  the 
sailors  are  moving  about  on  boards  which  have  been  nailed  up 
above  the  piled-up  masses  of  the  fruit. 

Stop  and  take  a look  at  the  girls.  They  are  passing  to  and 
from  the  bank  and  the  steamer  over  that  roadway  of  boards  500 
feet  long.  Each  has  a round  basket,  carefully  poised  on  her  head, 
and  in  and  above  them  the  golden  oranges  rise.  The  girls  are 
dressed  in  white  gowns  and  the  breeze  that  sweeps  up  the  river 
wraps  their  thin  skirts  about  their  lithe  forms.  Still  they  walk 
without  touching  their  burdens;  the  shaking  of  the  planks  and 
the  breeze  from  the  river  do  not  seem  to  disturb  them.  As  you 
look,  you  cannot  help  admiring  the  typical  Paraguayan  maiden; 
she  is  so  well  formed,  and  she  walks  like  a goddess.  When  young 
she  is  as  plump  as  a partridge  in  autumn,  and  were  it  not  for 
some  of  her  ways  you  might  straightway  fall  in  love.  To  an  Ameri- 
can her  attractiveness  is  spoiled  by  the  use  of  tobacco.  Until  I 
came  here  I thought  that  there  was  no  greater  beauty-destroyer 


THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY 


413 


than  the  gum-chewing  of  the  American  girl,  but  the  smoking  of 
cigars,  as  it  prevails  among  Paraguay  women,  is  far  worse.  The 
Paraguay  maiden  smokes  like  a chimney.  She  begins  to  use  to- 
bacco when  she  first  wears  dresses,  and  even  before,  for  you  may 
meet  girls  of  six,  eight,  and  ten  years  of  age  with  cigars  in  their 
mouths.  I have  seen  scores  of  little  girls  of  seven  and  eight 
smoking  cigars  almost  as  big  as  their  wrists,  and  as  for  old 
women,  it  is  the  exception  to  find  one  in  the  country  districts 
who  does  not  smoke  from  morning  till  night.  I speak,  of  course, 
of  the  common  people.  Those  who  are  not  actually  smoking 
have  cigars  between  their  teeth,  which  they  chew  without  light- 
ing for  hours  at  a time.  Many  make  their  own  cigars.  Tobacco 
is  so  cheap  here  that  you  can  get  a dozen  fairly  good  cigars  for 
five  cents;  leaf  tobacco  is  sold  for  a few  cents  a pound. 

The  Paraguay  girls  remind  me  of  the  girls  of  Japan.  They 
look  not  unlike  them  in  feature,  and  their  luxuriant  black  hair 
is  of  the  same  character  as  that  you  see  in  Japan.  In  the  inland 
districts  they  have  the  disregard  for  clothing  which  one  finds  in 
the  land  of  the  Mikado.  Very  young  girls,  and  often  some  of  the 
age  of  fourteen,  wear  nothing  whatever.  The  Paraguayan  woman, 
like  her  Japanese  sister,  is  not  afraid  of  strangers;  she  is  always 
good-natured  and  will  laugh  and  joke  with  you  just  as  readily 
as  do  the  young  women  of  the  east  coast  of  Asia. 

The  Japanese  women  are  good  at  business;  this  is  true  also 
of  the  Paraguayans.  If  you  would  see  smart  women  traders, 
come  and  spend  an  hour  in  the  market-place  of  Asuncion.  The 
market  is  situated  in  the  heart  of  the  city;  it  covers  an  entire 
square,  and  looks  more  like  a monastery  than  a place  for  buying 
and  selling.  Its  roof  extends  out  over  cloisters  ten  feet  wide, 
back  of  which  is  a tier  of  cells  running  about  a hollow  court 
and  forming  the  walls  of  the  market-house  proper.  The  court, 
the  cells,  and  the  cloisters  are  filled  with  women.  There  are 
hundreds  of  them,  all  in  their  bare  feet;  many  of  them  I found 
squatting  on  the  bricks  with  their  wares  before  them.  Others 
stand  behind  butcher  counters,  and  others  still  have  little  tables 
covered  with  vegetables,  laces,  jewellery,  clothing,  or  shoes. 

Stop  now  and  notice  the  buying  and  selling.  There  are  no 
scales  or  measures.  That  vegetable  woman  has  a stock  of  green 
peas;  she  has  arranged  them  in  piles,  about  a pint  to  the  pile, 
and  sells  by  eye  measure.  The  butcher  woman  behind  her  is 


414  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

cutting  off  meat  in  great  strips.  The  customers  judge  what  each 
piece  is  worth  by  its  size,  for  all  meat  is  sold  by  the  chunk. 
But  let  us  go  farther  into  the  market  and  take  a look  at  the 
butchers.  They  are  women,  who  stand  in  stalls  with  pieces  of 
beef  on  their  counters  and  strips  of  beef  hung  up  on  hooks  at 
the  back.  The  favourite  cut  is  a strip,  and  much  of  the  meat 
seems  to  have  been  cut  from  the  animal  in  sheets;  so  the  people 


PARAGUAYAN  WOMEN 


buy,  as  it  were,  by  the  yard.  The  usual  method  is  to  tear  or 
cut  the  meat  from  the  animal’s  sides  and  back  in  layers  about 
half  an  inch  thick,  one  layer  after  another  being  cut  off  until 
the  bone  is  reached.  The  sheets  are  then  hung  up  in  the  mar- 
ket and  sliced  or  chopped  off  as  the  customer  desires.  Each 
customer  brings  a cloth  with  her  to  wrap  her  purchase  in,  and 
she  carries  it  home  in  a basket,  box,  or  pan,  which  she  rests 
upon  her  head.  No  market-woman  ever  furnishes  paper  or 


THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY 


415 


string  for  her  customers.  The  most  common  market-basket  is  a 
dish-pan  or  tin  wash-basin,  and  this  is  always  carried  on  the 
head.  Indeed,  the  head  is  the  place  of  burden  for  all  Para- 
guayan women.  At  the  corner  of  the  market  we  can  see  all 
sorts  of  burden-bearers  coming  and  going.  There  comes  a girl 
now  at  a (<  two-forty  pace,"  with  a demijohn  on  her  head  and  a 
load  of  wood  in  her  arms.  Her  black  face  is  wrapped  in  a black 
shawl  and  her  black  legs  show  out  under  her  white  skirt  half 
way  below  her  knees.  There  is  another  woman  with  a white 
sheet  round  her  head  and  shoulders.  Notice  the  platter  so  care- 
fully balanced  upon  her  crown;  it  is  filled  with  oranges  and 
vegetables,  and  there  is  a great  chunk  of  raw  meat  on  top.  She 
walks  along  without  touching  her  burden,  and  that  is  the  case 
with  all  the  women  about.  There  comes  a young  girl  with  a 
bundle  of  sticks  perfectly  poised  on  the  top  of  her  cranium ; she 
has  her  hands  at  her  sides:  she  has  bought  as  much  firewood 
as  you  could  hold  in  your  arms,  and  she  is  carrying  it  home. 
Behind  her  is  a young  mother  with  a similar  bundle  and  a baby 
in  her  arms.  See,  she  has  stopped  to  make  a purchase  of  that 
orange-peddler  over  the  way.  Notice  how  carefully  she  stoops 
down  without  bending  her  back.  There  she  has  picked  up  a- 
half  dozen  oranges  and  stuck  them  in  among  the  firewood  and 
is  walking  off  without  the  least  trouble.  But  wait,  the  woman 
of  whom  she  has  bought  is  excited;  she  is  calling  her  back. 
The  young  mother  returns  and  putting  her  hand  away  down  in- 
side her  chemise,  takes  out  a coin  and  gives  it  to  the  peddler, 
who  in  turn  drops  it  in  at  the  neck  of  her  dress.  The  bosoms 
of  the  women  are  their  pockets,  and  before  they  make  change 
they  often  have  to  fumble  for  some  time  for  the  coins. 

And  so  we  go  in  and  out  through  the  crowd,  jostling  and  be- 
ing jostled  by  women  with  bags  of  potatoes,  baskets  of  corn,  fire- 
wood, and  bottles  on  the  top  of  their  heads.  We  beg  pardon  at 
every  step,  for  we  fear  that  a push  may  throw  a basket  of  eggs 
to  the  ground,  or  that  a chunk  of  raw  meat  on  some  woman’s 
head  may  fall  at  our  feet.  There  is  no  danger,  however,  for 
every  woman  handles  her  burden  quite  as  well  as  though  she 
were  carrying  it  in  her  arms. 

The  market  is  a good  place  to  see  how  little  a poor  Paraguayan 
family  needs  in  order  to  live.  Everything  is  sold  in  small  quan- 
tities, and  it  cannot  cost  much  for  the  average  woman  to  keep 


416  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

house.  The  clothes  of  the  poor  are  exceedingly  scanty.  The 
common  women  go  barefoot  and  all  go  bareheaded.  It  does  not 
cost  much  to  dress  them,  for  a full  suit  can  be  bought  for  $2  in 
gold.  Nearly  all  wear  shawls  about  their  chocolate  or  cream- 
coloured  faces.  Some  have  the  shawls  thrown  back,  so  that  you 
can  see  that  the  low-cut  chemise,  which  reaches  to  the  feet,  forms 
the  bulk  of  the  clothing.  The  shawls  look  like  bed  sheets,  and 
I am  told  that  they  are  often  used  as  such  and  that  a woman 
takes  part  of  her  bed  for  her  clothes  when  she  goes  out  to  walk. 


A PARAGUAYAN  MARKET-PLACE 


The  common  people  have  but  few  wants.  They  do  not  seem 
to  care  much  for  money  and  think  that  one  who  works  like  a 
foreigner  is  very  foolish  indeed.  I venture  to  say  that  the  aver- 
age Paraguayan  family  does  not  spend  as  much  in  a year  as  one 
of  our  labourers  in  the  North  spends  in  a month.  The  houses 
outside  the  cities  are  huts  of  poles,  chinked  with  mud  and  roofed 
with  brown  thatch.  They  have  dirt  floors,  and  commonly  have 
neither  fences  nor  gardens.  The  usual  hut  is  not  more  than  fifteen 
feet  square,  but  it  often  has  an  open  shed  of  the  same  size 
joined  to  it.  As  it  is  warm,  the  shed  is  frequently  the  most 


THE  PRETTY  GIRLS  OF  PARAGUAY 


417 


comfortable  part  of  the  house.  There  is  little  furniture;  a ham- 
mock or  so,  one  or  two  cot  beds  made  of  canvas  and  stretchers, 
a table,  and  a couple  of  chairs,  form  a good  housekeeping  outfit. 

The  cooking  is  often  done  over  an  open  fire  in  the  shed,  and 
cook-stoves  are  not  common.  The  chief  meals  are  breakfast  at 
1 1 o’clock  and  dinner  at  6,  with  a cup  of  <(  mate  ® or  Paraguayan 
tea  in  the  morning.  The  food  is  chiefly  puchero,  a soup  of  boiled 
beef  and  vegetables,  and  mandioca,  a kind  of  a potato-like  root, 
which  is  dried  and  ground  into  a flour.  The  soup  is  usually  eaten 
first  and  the  boiled  beef  and  vegetables  brought  in  as  a second 
course.  Very  little  coffee  or  tea  is  drunk  at  meals,  and  the  only 
liquor  used  by  the  common  people  is  a villainous  rum  made  of 
sugar  called  cana. 


CHAPTER  XLV 


INDUSTRIAL  TAR  A GUAY 

Its  Resources  and  Possibilities  — A Land  of  vast  Pastures  and  many  Cat- 
tle— Its  Dense  Forests  of  valuable  hard  Woods  — Its  Tobacco  and 
Cotton  Fields  — Low  Prices  of  Land  — The  Chances  for  Americans 
and  American  Trade. 

araguay  is  one  of  the  least  developed  of  the  countries  of 
South  America.  During  recent  interviews  with  the 
President  and  Secretary  of  Foreign  Affairs,  I have  had 
the  present  condition  and  the  possible  future  of  the  country  laid 
before  me.  They  estimate  that  Paraguay  could  easily  support 
ten  times  its  present  population.  It  has  now  700,000,  but  accord- 
ing to  them  it  could  easily  feed  7,000,000  and  still  leave  much  of 
the  country  uncultivated  and  unused.  At  present  not  one  acre 
in  twenty  of  the  tillable  land  is  under  cultivation,  and  there  are 
vast  areas  of  pasture  which  are  awaiting  stock-farmers. 

Stock-raising  is  the  chief  industry  of  Paraguay.  Much  of  the 
country  contains  natural  pasture  fitted  especially  for  stock-raising. 
Upon  it  the  grass  is  green  the  year  round.  There  is  water 
everywhere,  so  that  the  cattle  need  but  little  care  except  at  the 
round-ups.  Every  year  the  marketable  stock  is  picked  out  and 
driven  to  Asuncion  for  sale.  There  is  a demand  for  the  meat  as 
well  as  the  hides,  for  although  Paraguay  has  about  2,000,000  cat- 
tle, it  does  not  raise  enough  beef  for  its  own  consumption. 

The  Paraguayans  are  beef-eaters;  they  eat  the  meat  fresh, 
and  are  especially  fond  of  beef  when  dried  and  salted.  As  you 
ride  through  the  country  you  see  strips  and  sheets  of  beef  hang- 
ing on  poles  in  front  of  the  houses,  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the 
breeze.  They  are  thus  hung  out  to  dry,  for  in  this  region  the 
air  is  the  only  evaporator  and  refrigerator.  It  is  of  such  a na- 
ture that  the  meat,  when  properly  exposed,  becomes  as  hard  as  a 
bullet,  and  can  be  laid  away  for  future  consumption.  When  so 
dried  it  is  in  special  demand  throughout  Spanish  America  and  in 
(418) 


(420) 


INDIAN,  NORTH  PARAGUAY 


INDUSTRIAL  PARAGUAY 


421 

many  markets  will  bring  more  than  fresh  meats.  It  is  used  for 
stews,  being  cooked  with  rice,  potatoes,  and  mandioca. 

The  stock  farms  of  Paraguay  do  not  compare  in  extent  with 
those  of  Argentina  or  Uruguay.  The  cattle  are  of  a lower  grade, 
and  the  profits  accrue  from  the  excellence  of  the  grass  and  the 
mild  climate  rather  than  from  good  management  or  fine  breed- 
ing. Nevertheless,  the  natural  increase  of  the  stock  is  from  25 
to  35  per  cent  annually,  and  from  80  to  90  per  cent  of  the  num- 
ber of  cows.  Cattle  now  sell  at  about  $10  per  head,  higher  prices 
being  paid  for  good  fat  beeves. 

Pasture  lands,  and  indeed  all  lands  in  Paraguay,  are  sold  by  the 
square  league,  the  square  league  here  containing  5,760  acres,  or 
about  1,000  acres  less  than  the  square  league  of  Argentina.  Land 
sells  all  the  way  from  $100  gold  per  league  upwards.  At  $100  a 
league  would  be  less  than  two  cents  an  acre,  and  of  course  only 
the  poorest  of  land  can  be  purchased  at  that  price.  Good  graz- 
ing land  has  recently  been  sold,  however,  at  $700  a league,  and 
by  watching  the  auctions  fairly  good  pastures  can  be  purchased 
for  even  less.  Such  lands,  however,  require  fencing  to  make 
them  usable.  It  is  estimated  that  a league  of  pasture  should 
feed  1,500  grown  cattle. 

I should  say,  however,  that  no  purchases  of  Paraguay  lands 
should  be  made  by  our  people  without  personal  investigation. 
The  would-be  American  investor  should  come  first  and  study  the 
conditions.  He  should  not  buy  land  without  seeing  it,  as  there 
are  large  swamps  in  some  parts  of  the  country,  and  much  of  the 
lowlands  are  covered  with  water  in  the  rainy  season. 

A large  part  of  Paraguay  is  natural  forest.  This  is  especially 
so  on  the  hills  and  on  the  Chaco.  The  forests  are  full  of  fine 
woods;  but  the  wheels  of  Dame  Fortune’s  lumber  car  in  South 
America  are  clogged  with  natural  difficulties,  which  can  be  un- 
derstood only  by  those  on  the  spot.  There  is  a demand  for 
lumber  in  all  South  American  countries.  I found  Oregon  pine 
at  the  ports  of  the  Pacific  coast  and  Maine  pine  in  the  Argen- 
tines and  even  at  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  Our  pine  is  carried 
more  than  6,000  miles  by  ship  to  the  Buenos  Aires  markets. 
Here  in  Paraguay  the  forests  are  right  on  the  river,  1,115  miles 
from  Buenos  Aires,  with  water  communication  as  good  as  that 
of  the  Mississippi  between  the  two  points.  You  would  think  that 
all  the  lumber  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata  basin  would  come  from 
S.  A. — 27 


422  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Paraguay;  but  it  does  not.  Why?  Because  it  costs  so  much  to 
get  the  lumber  out  to  the  river,  and  to  carry  it  down  to  market. 

The  Paraguayan  woods  are  almost  all  hard.  They  are  as 
heavy  as  iron,  so  that  when  you  put  a log  on  the  water  it  sinks 
to  the  bottom.  There  is  no  means  of  getting  lumber  from  the 
interior  to  the  river  except  upon  the  railroad,  where  freights  are 
high,  or  on  boats  on  the  little  streams  which  are  tributaries  of 
the  Paraguay.  Lumber  carriage  is  paid  for  by  the  pound,  and 
the  freights  take  the  profit  out  of  the  business.  Labour  is  low,  as 
far  as  daily  wages  are  concerned,  but  as  measured  by  results  it 
is  high.  The  men  are  lazy  and  inefficient.  There  is  no  machin- 
ery; the  logs,  therefore,  are  sawed  out  by  hand,  one  man  stand- 
ing on  top  of  the  log  and  another  under  it,  and  thus  working 'a 
cross-cut  saw.  Another  drawback  is  that  most  of  the  trees  are 
crooked,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  a straight  log. 

Nevertheless,  some  kinds  of  the  native  wood  are  wonderfully 
beautiful.  Quebracho  Colorado  is  as  red  as  the  dark  moss  rose. 
It  is  used  for  dye  wood  and  tanning;  there  is  a German  firm 
that  is  now  shipping  a large  quantity  of  it  to  the  United  States. 
The  best  quebracho  comes  from  the  west  bank  of  the  Paraguay 
river  in  the  Paraguayan  Chaco. 

Another  very  hard  wood  is  the  lepacho;  it  will  turn  the  edge 
of  a steel  axe.  The  lepacho  is  a very  sound  wood,  not  prone  to 
crack,  and  of  great  strength.  It  is  of  a greenish-yellow  colour, 
and  some  varieties  have  a curl  in  it  like  bird’s-eye  maple.  It 
brings  good  prices.  Lepacho  would  make  very  good  furniture 
and  so  would  many  of  the  other  hard  woods  of  Paraguay.  The 
black  and  red  palms,  for  instance,  would  be  valuable  for  veneer- 
ing, for  they  take  a high  polish  and  are  wonderfully  durable. 
They  will  last  for  years  underground  or  in  the  water,  and  are 
exceedingly  hard.  I should  think  that  an  American  furniture 
factory  established  in  Paraguay  would  pay  well.  The  country 
now  imports  its  furniture  from  Germany,  Austria,  and  the  United 
States.  Both  Uruguay  and  Paraguay  get  most  of  their  supplies 
of  this  kind  from  the  same  sources,  and  the  prices  of  all  such 
things  are  remarkably  high.  I saw  Michigan  school  desks  being 
landed  from  a ship  at  one  of  the  towns  of  lower  Paraguay.  Our 
desks  and  chairs  are  in  demand  all  over  South  America,  but  ow- 
ing to  their  high  prices  are  not  generally  used.  Paraguay  has  a 
very  good  cedar,  much  like  that  of  cigar  boxes,  which  could  be 


WOOD-CUTTING  IN  PARAGUAY 


(423) 


INDUSTRIAL  PARAGUAY 


425 


used  for  making  furniture.  A similar  wood  is  the  timbo,  found 
in  the  southern  part  of  the  country.  It  has  a grain  much  like 
cedar,  and  grows  to  a great  height.  It  is  very  light,  the  Indians 
using  it  for  troughs  and  canoes. 

A curious  product  of  the  forests  of  Paraguay  is  Yerba  Mate, 
or  Paraguayan  tea.  We  do  not  hear  much  of  it  in  our  part  of 
the  hemisphere,  but  it  is  the  favourite  drink  of  more  than 
20,000,000  people  in  South  America,  being  consumed  in  large 
quantities  in  Argentina,  Chile,  Uruguay,  Paraguay,  and  Brazil;  in 
the  latter  country  it  is  drunk  even  in  the  coffee  districts.  The 
amount  annually  exported  netted  over  $1,000,000,  and  vast  quanti- 
ties are  used  at  home.  Yerbe  Mate  is  made  from  the  leaves 
of  a shrub  which  grows  wild  in  the  forests  over  an  area  about 
as  great  as  that  of  Connecticut.  The  Yerba  woods  are  called 
Yerbales.  They  were  once  government  property,  but  are  now 
owned  and  worked  by  capitalists  and  stock  companies.  The 
leaves  are  gathered  by  Indian  labourers,  dried  over  fires,  and 
packed  in  bags  of  green  cowskin  for  market.  It  takes  about 
thirty-six  hours  to  prepare  the  leaves  for  shipment.  When 
served,  the  leaves  are  in  a powdered  state.  They  are  put  in 
bowl-like  gourds,  and  boiling  water  is  poured  upon  them.  After 
steeping  it  a moment  the  consumer  drinks  the  liquor,  sucking  it 
up  through  a brass  or  silver  tube,  which  has  a strainer  at  the 
lower  end  to  prevent  the  tea  leaves  coming  through.  The  tea  is 
bitter  to  the  taste,  but  it  is  very  stimulating  and  strengthening, 
quieting  the  nerves  and  allaying  hunger.  Many  Paraguayan 
women  drink  from  fifteen  to  twenty  cups  of  it  daily. 

We  should  sell  Paraguay  cotton  and  woollen  goods.  At  pres- 
ent 85  per  cent  of  such  articles  are  furnished  by  England  and 
Germany.  There  is  no  cloth  of  any  kind  made  in  Paraguay. 
The  black  woollen  shawls  worn  by  the  women  come  from  Ger- 
many and  Belgium,  and  the  calicoes  are  chiefly  from  England. 
It  is  the  same  with  hardware,  most  of  that  which  is  now  sold 
here  being  German,  although  it  is  made  after  American  patterns, 
and  certain  imitated  articles  are  sold  under  American  trade-marks. 
The  impression  obtains  everywhere  in  South  America  that  our 
hardware  is  the  best;  for  this  reason  the  Germans  copy  it,  even 
to  revolvers,  axes,  and  sewing  machines,  the  German  imitations 
of  the  American  makes  being  actively  pushed.  I find  the  Ger- 
mans the  most  active  commercial  factor  in  Paraguay.  They 


426  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

have  several  large  stores  in  Asuncion,  and  they  send  their  trav- 
ellers to  the  towns  in  the  interior. 

Paraguay  has  good  soil  for  tobacco  and  cotton,  and  plantations 
for  raising  these  staples  might  be  established  were  it  not  that 


A PARAGUAYAN  TREE 


there  is  no  labour  to  work  them.  The  Paraguayans  do  not  want 
work;  they  are  poor  enough,  it  is  true,  but  they  despise  over- 
exertion. They  receive  very  fair  wages  for  this  continent,  being 


INDUSTRIAL  PARAGUAY 


427 


paid  in  Paraguayan  dollars,  each  worth  about  fifteen  cents. 
Bricklayers  get  five  of  these  dollars,  or  seventy-five  cents  gold 
per  day,  carpenters  the  same,  and  common  workmen  about  $3,  or 
45  cents  in  our  money.  Trackmen  on  the  railroad  are  paid  about 
$3.50  Paraguayan;  engineers  receive  $500  per  month,  and  conduc- 
tors are  paid  $120  per  month.  The  apparently  high  wages  of  the 
engineers  are  due  to  the  fact  that  they  are  usually  foreigners 
and  have  to  manage  the  machinery.  Collecting  tickets  is  not 
skilled  labour,  and  hence  the  conductors  are  Paraguayan.  As  to 
the  wages  of  the  women,  house  servants  receive  amounts  equal 
to  $3  a month  in  gold,  with  board. 

I doubt  whether  there  are  twenty  Americans,  all  told,  in  Para- 
guay. There  is  our  consul,  a well-educated  coloured  man,  who 
appears  to  have  made  himself  popular  with  the  government;  the 
vice-consul,  who  is  also  agent  for  one  of  our  life  insurance  com- 
panies; two  American  dentists,  a druggist,  and  a few  others. 

An  important  part  of  the  American  colony  is  made  up  of 
missionaries  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  a denomination 
which  more  than  any  other  has  done  much  to  establish  schools 
in  South  American  countries.  It  has  taken  the  continent  as  one 
of  its  chief  fields  of  work,  and  has  stations  in  Peru,  Chile,  Ar- 
gentina, Paraguay,  and  Brazil.  Most  of  its  labours  are  educa- 
tional, many  children  of  the  best  native  families  having  through 
its  schools  been  brought  under  Christian  tuition.  Its  schools  in 
Asuncion  are  two,  one  for  boys  and  the  other  for  girls;  both  are 
excellent. 


CHAPTER  XL VI 


ROUND  ABOUT  PIRAPO 

Strange  Adventures  in  the  Wilds  of  Paraguay  — A Night  in  a Country 

Hotel  — Paraguay’s  only  Railroad,  and  its  strange  Passengers 

Women  who  Peddle  raw  Meat  at  the  Stations  — Country  Scenes 

Tens  of  Thousands  of  Ant-Hills — A Land  where  Oranges  grow 
Wild  — Odd  Features  of  Life  outside  the  Cities. 

ave  you  ever  heard  of  Pirapo  ? It  is  a little  town  at  the 
end  of  the  railroad  in  southern  Paraguay,  156  miles 
from  Asuncion,  and  about  70  miles  north  of  the  Parana 
river.  Vast  pastures  surround  it,  for  it  is  right  out  on  the  prairie, 
so  that  droves  of  cattle  wander  through  it  and  graze  in  its  streets. 
Pirapo  has,  altogether,  not  more  than  50  inhabitants.  It  consists 
of  a-half  dozen  mud  huts,  roofed  with  gray  thatch,  a frame  rail- 
road depot  about  15  feet  square,  and  a hotel  with  walls  of  mud 
and  poles  and  a roof  of  corrugated  iron. 

I spent  last  night  in  the  hotel,  sleeping  in  a room  with  three 
other  travellers,  but,  thank  fortune ! with  a bed  to  myself.  And 
such  a bed;  it  was  of  a kind  common  in  Paraguay,  a canvas  cot 
upon  stretchers,  with  a pigmy  pillow,  so  small  that  I feared  it  might 
get  into  my  ear  and  so  hard  that  it  almost  bored  a hole  in  my 
head.  My  room-mates  were  a German  cattle-buyer,  a Paraguayan 
gaucho  or  cowboy,  and  Mr.  William  Harrison,  the  resident  agent  of 
the  New  York  Life  Insurance  Company.  The  German  coughed  all 
night,  the  Paraguayan  snored  like  a fog-horn,  and  Mr.  Harrison 
at  intervals  cleared  his  throat  and  denounced  the  others  for  keep- 
ing him  awake.  It  was  indeed  a restful  time.  And  still  it  was 
a good  hotel  for  Paraguay.  The  meals  were  cooked  by  a young 
Italian  who  looked  like  a butcher,  and  who  shuffled  about  the 
table  in  his  bare  feet,  his  sleeves  rolled  up  to  his  elbows.  The 
meals  were  served  in  courses,  and  we  had  a table  cloth  and  nap- 
kins. Our  early  breakfast  was  merely  black  coffee  and  dry  bread, 
to  which  I added  a couple  of  oranges.  Dinner  consisted  of  a 
(428) 


ROUND  ABOUT  PIRAPO 


429 

vegetable  soup,  boiled  beef,  stewed  chicken  and  rice,  a kidney 
saute , and  a dessert  of  peanut  candy.  We  had  excellent  bread, 
but  no  butter.  Wine  was  furnished  free  with  the  dinner. 

The  landlord  of  the  hotel  was  also  a storekeeper,  and  his 
store  will  give  you  an  idea  of  how  things  are  sold  in  the  back- 
woods  of  South  America.  The  store-room  was  twenty  feet  square. 
It  was  walled  with  shelves  filled  with  the  goods  most  in  demand 
by  the  Paraguayans.  There  were  cottons  from  England,  bottles 
of  mustard,  bitters,  and  liquors  from  France,  and  as  many  sar- 
dine boxes  and  canned  meats  as  you  will  see  in  a mining  store 
in  the  Rockies.  There  were  sugar,  rice,  and  bread,  hats,  shoes, 
and  umbrellas.  There  was  kerosene  from  the  United  States  and 
a pair  of  scales  made  in  Vermont.  A large  part  of  the  business 
seemed  to  be  in  liquors.  On  the  floor  in  the  rear  stood  two  barrels 
with  dripping  spigots:  one  contained  a cheap  Italian  wine,  which 
sells  here  for  thirteen  cents  a quart;  the  other  held  can  a,  the 
native  sugar  brandy,  which  is  so  powerful  that  a full  glass  would 
intoxicate  an  American  toper.  It  is  sold  for  thirteen  cents  a 
quart,  so  that  for  about  two  cents  enough  can  be  bought  to  make 
a man  intoxicated. 

Paraguay  has  but  one  railroad,  the  only  one  of  its  kind  in  the 
world.  It  was  built  by  an  English  syndicate  under  a subsidy 
from  the  government,  and  it  is  managed  by  the  English  to-day. 
Its  cars  go  at  such  a pace  that  a dog  tied  to  the  rear  of  the 
train  might  keep  up  without  trouble.  The  train  waits  long  at 
the  stations,  and  when  it  stops  for  meals  it  does  not  start  until 
the  last  of  the  passengers  has  finished  drinking  his  coffee.  The 
prices  of  the  tickets  are  low,  differing  according  to  class.  The 
first-class  cars  are  much  like  ours,  in  that  there  is  an  aisle  run- 
ning through  the  centre,  with  seats  on  each  side;  the  seats  are 
cushioned  with  wicker,  and  are  not  uncomfortable.  The  second- 
class  cars  are  much  the  same;  but  the  third-class  have  seats 
under  the  windows  like  those  of  a street  car,  with  benches  run- 
ning back  to  back  through  the  centre  of  the  car. 

In  our  train  the  third-class  cars  were  filled  with  women  and 
men,  most  of  whom  were  smoking  and  chewing.  There  were 
more  women  than  men,  and  more  smokers  among  them.  Some 
of  the  girls  were  very  pretty,  but  almost  all,  from  maids  of  six- 
teen to  little  tots  of  six,  had  cigars  in  their  mouths.  At  every 
station  I saw  women  smoking  cigars,  and  women  peddlers  came 


43°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  the  car  windows  and  offered  me  bunches  of  cigars  at  the  rate 
of  a cent  apiece.  I noticed  that  most  of  the  girls  had  fairly 
good  teeth,  which  were  often  discoloured  by  the  tobacco  they 
were  so  disgustingly  using. 

At  many  of  the  stations  the  coming  of  the  train  was  the  event 
of  the  day.  As  the  whistle  blew  there  would  be  a rush  to  the 
depot.  Crowds  of  women  peddlers  would  take  their  places  on 
the  platforms,  some  with  oranges,  others  with  vegetables,  and 
others  still  with  beef.  Think  of  selling  raw  meat  at  a railroad 


station ! At  nearly  every  stopping-place  butcher  women  appeared 
at  the  trains  with  great  baskets  of  raw  beef,  which  they  peddled 
out  in  chunks  to  the  passengers.  Many  of  the  meat  peddlers 
had  cigars  in  their  mouths  and  they  smoked  as  they  sold;  other 
women  offered  us  laces,  and  a few  had  baby  clothes  and  pieces 
of  embroidery.  There  were  also  shoe-peddlers  and  peddlers  of 
cakes  and  sweets. 

During  the  journey  we  almost  lived  on  oranges.  The  common 
fruit  of  this  kind  is  as  fine  as  any  raised  on  the  Indian  River; 
the  skin  is  so  oily  that  if  you  squeeze  it  bubbles  of  oil  will 


SCENE  ON  THE  PARAGUAYAN  RAILWAY 


ROUND  ABOUT  PIRAPO 


431 


stand  out  upon  it,  and  if  you  touch  a match  to  a bubble  it  will 
go  off  in  a flash  as  though  it  were  powder.  Oranges  grow  wild 
in  Paraguay.  They  are  so  plentiful  that  the  people  live  upon 
them  during  the  season,  and  it  is  not  uncommon  for  a man  to 
eat  twenty-five  in  a day.  They  are  exceedingly  cheap;  I have 
had  ten  offered  me  for  a cent.  At  the  station  at  Santa  Clara, 
above  Piparo,  I offered  a “medio,”  a native  coin  worth  three- 
fourths  of  an  American  cent,  to  an  orange  peddler,  saying  in  my 
poor  Spanish : 

u Quant  os  oranges  por  un  medio , Senorita  ? ” 

“ Ocho , ” replied  the  damsel,  as  she  gripped  her  cigar  between 
her  ivory  teeth,  and  held  out  both  hands  containing  eight  golden 
balls  which  would  be  worth  at  least  forty  cents  in  a New  York 
market  at  the  height  of  the  orange  season. 

I am  surprised  at  the  beauties  of  interior  Paraguay.  The 
country  is  rolling  and  there  is  something  new  to  be  seen  at 
almost  every  turn  of  the  wheel.  There  are  orange  trees  in  the 
thickets  and  nearly  every  village  of  thatched  huts  has  orange 
trees  about  it.  There  are  palm  trees  on  the  plains;  they  grow 
in  groves  or  in  clumps  rather  than  in  forests.  Some  varieties 
are  loaded  with  nuts,  great  bunches  of  little  balls  no  larger 
round  than  a walnut,  but  of  the  same  shape  as  the  cocoanuts 
sold  in  our  markets.  These  little  cocoanuts  are  valuable,  and  the 
raising  of  them  is  one  of  the  most  profitable  of  the  smaller  in- 
dustries of  Paraguay.  They  are  ground  up  and  used  for  making 
palm  oil  and  soap. 

Large  parts  of  Paraguay  are  natural  pastures,  with  here  and 
there  clumps  of  woods  or  forests  scattered  through  them.  It  is 
only  the  hills  that  are  covered  with  trees.  The  plains  have  a 
rich  growth  of  grass.  Nearly  all  the  land  along  the  railroad  is 
taken  up;  it  is  held  in  large  tracts,  many  of  the  farms  being 
fenced  with  barbed  wire.  It  is  curious  to  notice  the  different 
kinds  of  pasture.  Some  fields  are  covered  with  grass,  wrhich  is 
coarse,  gray,  and  dead,  while  adjoining  them  are  meadows  as 
green  as  Kansas  in  June.  The  green  fields  are  those  that  have 
been  burnt  over  to  improve  the  pasture.  As  soon  as  the  dead 
grass  is  burnt  off,  the  green  sprouts  come  up;  the  burning  is 
done  by  many  farmers  once  a year.  The  grass  is  better  in  the 
south ; about  Pirapo  it  is  as  high  as  your  waist,  and  the  cattle 
literally  stand  in  it  up  to  their  bellies. 


432  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  cattle  of  the  region  are  of  a mongrel  breed.  They  are 
somewhat  like  the  long-horned  stock  which  we  had  in  Texas  a 
generation  ago,  and  which,  until  within  a few  years,  was  common 
in  Argentina.  Now  the  Argentines  have  fine  stock,  and  this  will 
eventually  be  the  case  with  the  Paraguayans.  Most  of  the  stock 
feed  out  in  the  open  without  visible  care ; I have  seen  no  herd- 
ing, although  on  some  of  the  farms  the  gauchos  were  rounding 
up  and  branding  the  cattle.  At  such  times  the  animals  are 
thrown  to  the  ground  and  the  brands  put  on  with  red-hot  irons. 
On  getting  again  to  their  feet,  the  cattle  are  wild  and  revenge- 
ful, and  frequently  attack  the  cowboys  if  they  can  catch  them 
dismounted. 

One  of  the  oddest  things  in  Paraguay  is  the  ant;  it  is  the 
only  thing  that  turns  the  country  upside  down.  You  see  evi 
dences  of  its  work  everywhere.  Many  of  the  fields  are  covered 
with  thousands  of  ant-hills:  some  hills  are  as  big  as  a haycock 
and  a yard  in  diameter;  others  are  not  as  large  as  a sugar  loaf. 
They  are  red  or  brown,  according  to  the  soil  of  which  they  are 
made.  These  hills  dot  the  landscape  here  as  the  burial-mounds 
do  China.  They  are  found  in  the  cultivated  lands  and  in  the 
pasture  fields,  where  you  see  long-horned  cattle  eating  the  grass 
among  them.  Sometimes  they  are  only  a few  feet  apart  and 
sometimes  fifteen  or  twenty  feet:  each  of  these  hills  is  an  ant 
village ; it  is  an  ant  catacomb  populated  by  thousands.  There 
are  as  many  ant  works  below  the  surface  as  there  are  above  it. 
When  a field  is  to  be  cultivated  the  first  work  is  to  get  rid  of 
the  ants:  the  way  to  do  this  is  to  dig  out  the  ant-hills  and 
burn  them;  then  only  can  the  field  be  ploughed.  The  ants  even 
burrow  into  the  houses,  then  they  make  their  way  up  through 
the  brick  floors  and  build  sand-hills  upon  them,  so  that  a woman 
may  go  to  bed  with  a house  as  clean  as  a Dutch  kitchen  and 
awake  the  next  morning  to  find  her  floors  covered  with  great 
cones  of  sand  in  which  are  thousands  of  ants. 

The  average  country  house,  however,  has  no  floor  but  the 
earth.  Nine-tenths  of  the  houses  outside  of  the  cities  are  huts  of 
poles,  which  are  woven  together  and  tied  with  withes  or  strings. 
They  have  roofs  of  thatch  which  extend  out  at  one  side,  forming 
an  open  shed  or  room.  Often  the  shed  is  larger  than  the  closed 
part,  for  the  latter  is  little  more  than  the  sleeping-place  for  the 
family.  Many  such  houses  have  orange  trees  about  them  and 


U33)  BRANDING  CATTLE,  ARGENTINA 


ROUND  ABOUT  P1RAPO 


435 


palm  trees  waving  over  them.  As  you  pass  them  you  see  that 
some  have  red  walls  and  some  walls  of  brown  or  white.  At  first 
you  think  the  red  ones  are  painted,  but  soon  see  that  it  is  the 
soil  with  which  they  are  chinked  that  is  red.  This  is  the  colour 
of  the  best  land  of  Paraguay.  The  contrast  of  this  rich  red  and 
the  soft  velvet  gray  of  the  thatch  is  harmonious;  the  houses  are 
thus  exceedingly  picturesque.  In  this  respect  they  are  much  like 
the  country  houses  of  Japan.  The  larger  farmhouses  sometimes 
have  two  rooms,  with  a thatched  roof  connecting  them,  and  an 
open  space  in  the  centre. 

The  Paraguayans  are  hospitable.  You  can  call  at  any  hut 
in  the  country  and  will  be  made  perfectly  at  home.  You  will 
probably  see  a lot 
of  naked  babies 
and  some  naked 
children  who  are 
considerably  older 
than  babies,  for  in 
the  back  districts 
boys  and  girls  up 
to  the  age  of  four- 
teen often  go  about 
naked.  If  you  can 
speak  the  Guarani 
language, — the  In- 
dian tongue  which 
is  in  common  use 
among  the  lower 
classes,  — you  will 
find  the  people 
quite  intelligent, 
though  exceedingly 
simple  and  igno- 
rant of  the  world. 

You  will  be  given 
a cigar  to  smoke, 
and  doubtless  will 

, , , TOBA  CHIEF,  PARAGUAY 

be  asked  to  take 

part  in  the  puchero,  or  boiled  beef  and  vegetables,  which  con- 
stitutes the  usual  meal.  Your  food  will  be  cooked  out  of  doors, 


436  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

and  the  women  may  have  to  pound  the  corn  to  powder  in  a 
wooden  mortar  before  it  is  ready  for  cooking.  When  you  first 
enter  the  hut,  you  will  probably  be  offered  a glass  of  brandy  or 
cana,  for  everyone  drinks  and  every  village  has  its  brandy  dis- 
tillery. Indeed,  it  is  estimated  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
in  Paraguay  could  drink  two  gallons  of  cana  a year  and  not 
exhaust  the  supply. 

In  a visit  of  this  kind  you  will  learn  that  the  people  are  con- 
tented with  their  lot.  They  are  philosophers,  who  regard  for- 
eigners as  fools,  because  they  wear  out  their  lives  working  for 
money. 

Our  first  stop  on  the  way  to  Pirapo  was  at  Villa  Rica,  the 
second  city  of  Paraguay.  It  lies  about  100  miles  east  of  Asun- 
cion, at  the  foot  of  a low  blue  mountain  range  which  crosses 
Paraguay.  It  has  about  6,000  population  and  is  considered  the 
most  cultured  town  in  the  country.  Its  better  classes  live  in  large 
one-story  buildings,  roofed  with  red  tiles,  which  form  comfortable 
homes.  One  of  the  most  interesting  sights  is  the  market,  where 
are  hundreds  of  sheeted  women  buying  and  selling.  There  are 
scores  of  girls  going  to  and  fro  with  burdens  upon  their  heads, 
not  a few  of  whom  are  water-carriers  bringing  in  water  from  the 
springs  in  the  rear  of  the  town.  The  vessels  used  for  this  pur- 
pose are  of  all  sorts,  from  gourds  to  oil-cans. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 


IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL 


The  Trip  up  the  Paraguay  into  the  Province  of  Matto  Grosso  — A Look 
at  Cuyaba  — A Stop  at  Corumba  — Tigers  and  Alligators  — Savage 
Indians  who  are  Born  without  Hair  and  Grow  Hair  only  on  the 
Head  — Something  about  the  Chaco  and  its  Curious  Tribes — The 
Tobas,  Lenguas,  and  Others. 


5he  wonders  of  the  Parana  river  system  grow  upon  me.  I 
am  now  on  the  Paraguay,  which  flows  2,000  miles  from 
its  source  in  Brazil  before  it  loses  itself  in  the  Parana. 
The  Paraguay  has  a network  of  tributaries,  on  which  you  can 
sail  for  thousands  of  miles,  and  on  some  of  which  you  can  go  in 
canoes  so  close  to  the  tributaries  of  the  Amazon  that  by  carry- 
ing your  boat  a short  distance  you  could  reach  the  Atlantic 
through  that  mighty  stream.  The  Parana  proper,  which  I left 
at  the  town  of  Corrientes,  about  300  miles  south,  extends  from 
that  point  more  than  1,000  miles  farther  north,  bounding  South 
Paraguay  and  running  on  into  Brazil.  It  is  navigable  for  small 
steamers  during  a part  of  its  course,  but  it  has  400  miles  of 
rocky  rapids  and  falls  which  in  the  future  may  be  classed  among 
the  picturesque  sights  of  the  world.  The  waterfalls  are  said  to 
surpass  Niagara.  They  are  on  the  borders  of  Paraguay  and 
Brazil,  and  are  known  as  the  Salto  Guayra.  They  are,  I am  told, 
far  grander  than  the  falls  of  Yguazu,  sometimes  called  the  Ni- 
agara Falls  of  South  America. 

I have  already  shown  that  I sailed  in  coming  to  Asuncion  on 
large  river  steamers  as  far  as  from  New  York  to  Omaha.  I can 
go  just  as  much  farther  by  steam  into  the  heart  of  the  southern 
continent,  or  farther  than  from  Philadelphia  to  Salt  Lake  City. 
The  limit  of  steam  navigation  is  now  Cuyaba,  Brazil,  the  capital 
of  the  State  of  Matto  Grosso,  and  the  metropolis  of  a vast  coun- 
try of  undeveloped  resources. 

The  first  man  to  penetrate  this  region  by  steam  was  an  Amer- 
ican, Captain  Thomas  J.  Page;  he  was  commander  of  the  steam 

(439) 


44°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

launch  Alpha  of  the  United  States  Navy,  and  on  this  little  ship, 
in  1859,  he  pushed  his  way  inland  2,700  miles  from  the  Atlantic. 
To-day  Brazilian  mail  steamers  go  over  the  same  route  twice  a 
month,  the  steamers  leaving  here  fortnightly  for  Cuyaba.  The 
Paraguay  river  for  half  the  journey  is  everywhere  twenty  feet 
deep,  while  its  average  depth  is  said  to  be  forty-five  feet. 

The  trip  from  Asuncion  to  Cuyaba  is  most  picturesque.  Cross- 
ing the  boundary  of  Paraguay,  you  enter  the  great  province  of 
Matto  Grosso,  which  is  an  empire  in  itself.  As  you  go  north  the 
Paraguay  river  narrows,  the  scenery  becomes  wild,  and  you  steam 
in  and  out  among  mountains,  at  the  bases  of  which  grow  fern 
trees  and  giant  palms.  The  banks  are  covered  with  a wooded 
mass  of  vegetation.  The  trees  are  tall  and  bound  together  with 
vines  and  creepers.  You  could  not  make  your  way  through  them 
without  an  axe  or  a knife. 

There  are  all  kinds  of  wild  birds,  and  you  get  many  shots 
from  the  steamer.  There  are  alligators  everywhere,  and  if  you 
rise  early  you  may  now  and  then  see  tigers  swimming  across  the 
river.  Farther  north,  if  you  throw  a dynamite  cartridge  into  the 
water,  the  dead  fish  will  soon  float  up  on  all  sides  of  you,  and 
within  a few  minutes  you  can  pick  up  enough  to  half  fill  your 
boat.  Here  and  there  you  pass  farmhouses  cut  out  of  the 
woods;  at  some  of  these  the  boat  stops  for  fresh  meat,  taking 
the  beeves  on  board  and  killing  them  there.  There  are  frequent 
forests  of  palms  scattered  along  the  river. 

About  two  days’  ride  above  Asuncion,  just  over  the  Brazilian 
line,  a forest-covered  island,  1,300  feet  high,  springs  up  ahead  of 
you  and  apparently  bars  your  progress.  As  you  approach  it,  you 
see  that  there  is  a channel  at  the  west  side  wide  enough  for 
the  boat  to  go  through.  This  island  is  known  as  the  Mountain 
Gate.  The  land  about  it  is  said  to  be  so  unhealthy  that,  as  one 
of  the  authorities  states,  even  the  trees  are  pot-bellied  and  drop- 
sical; some  of  the  human  beings  in  the  neighbourhood  certainly 
are. 

As  you  proceed  farther  the  animal  life  increases.  Deer  are 
frequently  seen,  and  among  them  are  some  almost  pure  white. 
The  birds  are  of  gorgeous  plumage,  that  of  the  toucans  resplend- 
ent in  the  brightest  reds  and  blues.  The  alligators  become 
more  numerous,  and  you  are  frequently  approached  by  Indians 
who  have  tiger  skins  for  sale.  A good  skin  will  bring  from  five 


(442)  HUT  OF  CABADELLO,  BRAZIL 


IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL  44  3 

to  ten  dollars.  In  addition  to  this  there  is  sometimes  a bounty 
paid  for  such  skins.  There  is  a man  on  the  river  who  has  made 
quite  a fortune  by  killing  tigers;  he  is  said  to  have  killed  193, 
and  has  received  in  the  neighbourhood  of  $3,000  for  them.  He 
got  $10  apiece  for  the  skins,  and  the  cattle  owners  paid  him  a 
bounty  of  $5  per  tiger. 

Other  bird  and  animal  life  offered  for  sale  are  parrots  and 
monkeys.  The  prices  are  low,  and  you  can  have  them  almost 
for  the  asking.  You  can  also  buy  bows  and  arrows,  Indian  bas- 


FAMILY  OF  URUGUAYANS 

kets,  and  hammocks.  The  hammocks  are  expensive;  some  are 
made  of  the  brilliant  feathers  of  tropical  birds  and  cost  as  high 
as  $200  apiece. 

Matto  Grosso  is  one  of  the  largest  provinces  of  Brazil.  It  is 
as  large  as  one-sixth  of  the  United  States,  not  including  our  out- 
lying possessions.  It  forms  the  southern  central  half  of  the 
country.  The  greater  part  of  it  has  never  been  explored,  and  it 
is  as  wild  to-day  as  it  was  when  Sebastian  Cabot  made  his  way 
up  the  Paraguay  river  only  a few  years  after  America  was  dis- 
covered. It  is  a land  of  gold  and  diamonds,  of  vast  pastures,  of 


444  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

impenetrable  forests,  of  rubber  and  cacao,  and,  in  fact,  in  its 
possibilities,  is  one  of  the  richest  lands  in  the  world. 

The  territory  is  to  be  reached  only  by  the  Parana  and  Para- 
guay river  systems.  It  has  no  railroads  connecting  it  with  the 
rest  of  Brazil,  and  its  people  rely  for  their  supplies  upon  the 
steamers  of  the  Parana  system.  Every  bit  of  its  imports  is 
brought  more  than  2,700  miles  by  river  boats,  and  its  federal 
officials,  who  as  a rule  come  from  Rio  Janeiro,  must  travel  1,000 
miles  farther  to  reach  it. 

Leaving  Asuncion  on  the  way  to  Matto  Grosso,  you  first  pass 
Villa  Concepcion,  the  largest  city  of  northern  Paraguay.  There 
is  a white  customhouse  on  the  banks,  and  back  of  this  is  the 
town.  Concepcion  contains  about  5,000  people.  It  is  made  up 
of  stuccoed  buildings  and  thatched  huts.  It  is  a business  centre, 
exporting  large  quantities  of  (<  mate  M or  Paraguayan  tea  and 
hides.  There  are  more  Indians  and  negroes  than  in  Asuncion, 
and  you  find  that  the  Indians  and  negroes  increase  as  you  go 
north. 

At  Coimbra,  Brazil,  1,810  miles  from  Buenos  Aires,  you  see 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  Paraguay  the  first  village  of  any  size 
for  a distance  of  700  miles  on  that  side  of  the  river.  So  far,  all 
the  settlements  have  been  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river,  the 
country  to  the  west  being  almost  entirely  wild.  At  Coimbra  there 
is  a Brazilian  fort.  Farther  on  you  come  to  the  little  village  of 
Albuquerque,  with  low  wooded  mountains  behind  it,  and  about  175 
miles  farther  the  steamer  stops  at  Corumba. 

You  are  now  over  2,200  miles  from  the  ocean,  almost  as  far 
inland  by  water  as  Salt  Lake  City  is  from  New  York  by  rail. 
Corumba  is  the  chief  port  of  Matto  Grosso,  where  is  located  the 
only  customhouse  of  the  province,  and  where  the  officers  come 
on  board  and  open  your  baggage.  The  steamer  stops  long  enough 
to  enable  one  to  get  a view  of  the  city.  It  is  situated  in  the 
woods,  on  a hill,  commanding  the  country  for  miles.  It  has  the 
usual  Spanish  buildings  of  stucco  and  tiles,  with  palm  trees 
growing  here  and  there  in  the  gardens.  It  has  a beautiful  plaza, 
about  which  are  some  large  stores.  The  merchants  are  thrifty, 
and  they  do  a large  business,  most  of  which  is  managed  by 
Frenchmen,  Italians,  and  Strasburg  Jews. 

Goods  are  sent  out  from  Corumba  to  different  parts  of  the 
interior.  There  is  a mule  route  to  Bolivia,  the  nearest  town 


(445) 


IN  THE  WOODS  NEAR  BAHIA,  BRAZIL 


IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL 


447 


being  San  Jose  de  Chuqnito,  which  is  280  miles  away.  The 
journey  takes  14  days  and  is  very  expensive.  Mules  are  costly; 
indeed,  you  cannot  get  a good  one  for  less  than  $100  in  gold. 
You  must  lay  in  an  ample  supply  of  canned  goods,  for  those  who 
try  to  live  off  the  country  fare  poorly.  There  are  few  horses; 
they  are  subject,  it  seems,  to  a peculiar  disease,  which  affects 
their  hind  quarters,  and  their  places  have  been  largely  taken 
bv  cows  and  bulls.  Bullocks  are  used  for  carts  and  also  for 
riding,  riding-bullocks  bringing  good  prices.  The  bullock  is  not 
a bad  saddle  animal.  Its  gait,  it  is  true,  is  a shambling  trot  or 
pace ; but  after  you  become  used  to  it,  it  is  not  at  all  unpleasant. 
The  animals  are  directed  by  reins  which  are  tied  to  their  horns. 
They  are  often  used  to  pack  goods  from  one  town  to  another, 
and,  indeed,  take  the  places  that  horses  have  taken  in  our  coun- 
try. 

It  is  shortly  after  you  leave  Corumba  that  you  pass  out  of 
the  Paraguay  river  and  enter  the  San  Lorenzo.  The  San  Lo- 
renzo is  not  so  big  as  the  Paraguay.  In  the  Paraguay,  steamers 
draw  as  much  as  nine  feet,  while  those  to  which  you  change  at 
Corumba  do  not  draw  over  five.  It  takes  about  twelve  hours  to 
reach  the  San  Lorenzo  river  from  Corumba,  and  you  sail  a day 
and  a-half  on  it  before  you  enter  the  Cuyaba  river,  on  which  you 
steam  to  the  city. 

The  boats  here  are  always  crowded,  200  passengers  often 
being  taken  at  one  time.  The  whole  journey  from  Corumba  to 
Cuyaba  requires  six  days,  and  the  fare  is  $7.00  in  gold.  It  is 
one  of  the  cheapest  of  steamship  trips,  for  the  price  includes 
meals  — coffee  in  the  morning,  breakfast  at  10  a.  m.,  and  dinner 
in  the  evening. 

The  scenery  of  the  San  Lorenzo  and  Cuyaba  rivers  is  very 
tropical.  There  are  many  palms;  there  are  cotton  trees  which 
have  balls  of  cotton  upon  them  as  big  as  oranges;  others  have 
blossoms  of  a silky  fibre  which  hang  down  in  great  cones  of 
white;  this  stuff  is  used  by  the  people  for  making  pillows, 

Cuyaba  has  about  20,000  inhabitants.  It  is  a surprisingly 
good  city  for  its  location  and  very  much  up-to-date.  It  has 
water-works,  a street  car  line,  and  a cathedral.  In  its  college 
French,  English,  and  Portuguese  are  taught,  and  in  its  orphan 
asylum  there  are  200  boys.  The  town  was  founded  in  1722,  being 
laid  out  in  Portuguese  style  with  a very  pretty  plaza  and  park. 


448  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

It  is  situated  about  two  miles  from  the  river,  and  you  can  ride 
to  it  on  one  of  the  tame  cows  or  you  may  go  on  a street-car 
drawn  by  mules. 

In  going  to  Matto  Grosso  you  skirt  one  of  the  least-known 
parts  of  South  America.  This  is  the  vast  region  known  as  the 
Chaco,  which  lies  west  of  the  Paraguay  river  and  south  of  Bo- 
livia. The  northern  part  of  it  belongs  to  Paraguay,  and  the  re- 
mainder to  the  Argentine  Republic.  The  part  belonging  to  the 
Argentine  lies  south  of  the  Pilcomayo  river,  and  comprises  a ter- 


CUYABA,  BRAZIL 


ritory  larger  than  California  and  Massachusetts  combined,  — 
enough,  in  fact,  to  make  three  States  as  big  as  Ohio. 

The  only  settlements  in  this  vast  region  are  upon  the  Para- 
guay river.  They  consist  of  an  occasional  (<  estancia }>  or  farm, 
and  a few  scattered  villages.  The  chief  town  in  the  Paraguayan 
Chaco  is  Villa  Hayes,  which  is  in  sight  from  Asuncion  and  has 
now  about  91  families  of  foreigners.  They  are  chiefly  Swiss, 
French,  and  Italians,  who  are  engaged  in  raising  sugar  cane  and 
sweet  potatoes,  and  in  manufacturing  brandy. 

There  are  two  large  rivers  which  run  through  the  Chaco.  The 
Pilcomayo  winds  about  like  a corkscrew  from  the  Bolivian  Andes 


(450)  A VIEW  IN  THE  CHACO,  ARGENTINA 


IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL 


45  1 


to  the  Paraguay  river.  It  has  many  rapids,  and  can  never  be 
navigable.  The  Vermejo  or  the  Vermilion  river,  enters  the  Par- 
aguay farther  south;  it  is  at  just  about  the  bottom  of  the  coun- 
try. Its  waters  are  so  red  that  they  discolour  those  of  the  Paraguay 
for  some  miles.  The  Vermejo  is  about  1,200  miles  long,  but  it  is 
navigable  only  for  a short  distance. 

Just  what  the  Chaco  contains  in  the  way  of  resources  has 
yet  to  be  discovered.  I have  met  men  who  have  travelled  over 
parts  of  it  and  they  tell  me  that  the  forests  have  much  fine  tim- 
ber, and  that  there  are  good  pastures  scattered  among  the  woods. 
The  land  will  hardly  be  developed  before  railroads  are  built,  and 
to-day  there  are  not,  I venture  to  say,  50,000  white  people  in  the 
whole  territory. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Chaco  are  almost  altogether  Indians. 
There  are  said  to  be  more  than  100,000  of  them.  They  are  among 
the  most  curious  Indians  in  the  world,  some  of  the  tribes  being 
practically  unknown  to  our  ethnologists.  There  are  Indians  in 
the  Chaco,  for  instance,  who  go  naked  from  one  year’s  end  to 
the  other,  and  some  are  so  opposed  to  any  covering  that  they 
will  not  even  allow  their  hair  to  grow.  They  pull  out  every  hair 
on  their  bodies  except  those  on  the  head.  Their  faces,  arms, 
bosoms,  and  legs  are  kept  as  hairless  as  when  they  were  born. 
I have  heard  it  stated  that  the  people  of  one  tribe  are  natur- 
ally hairless.  It  is  said  that  they  are  born  so,  and  that  the 
hair  never  grows  except  on  their  heads.  This  has  often  been 
reported,  but  until  I see  an  Indian  grown  to  order  to  test  the 
matter  I shall  continue  to  doubt  the  statement. 

Some  of  these  Indians  are  quite  handsome.  Take  the  Tobas, 
for  example,  whom  I saw  on  my  travels  on  the  Paraguay  river. 
They  are  as  fine  looking  as  any  of  the  Indians  of  North  Amer- 
ica, and  are  as  straight  and  as  proud  in  their  bearing  as  the 
bravest  chiefs  of  the  West.  They  have  high  cheek  bones,  copper- 
coloured  skins,  and  straight  black  hair. 

The  Tobas  commonly  wear  no  clothes  save  when  they  come 
into  the  presence  of  white  people,  or  cross  over  to  Paraguay  to 
trade.  At  such  times  the  women  wear  white  sheets  draped 
about  their  bodies;  at  home  they  wear  nothing  except  a blanket 
about  the  waist,  that  is,  when  they  are  in  full  dress.  The  men 
are  satisfied  with  a band  tied  about  the  head. 


45 2 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  younger  women  among  the  Chaco  Indians  are  fine  look- 
ing, and  the  young  braves  are  the  noblest  of  their  race.  Both 
sexes  age  early,  and  after  thirty  the  women  look  old.  In  most 
of  the  tribes  polygamy  is  common,  but  I am  told  the  women  get 
along  peaceably,  and  that  a young  wife  is  always  welcomed  into 
the  family  because  the  women  do  all  the  work,  and  the  more 
women  the  less  work.  It  is  the  woman  who  plants  the  crops, 
cooks  the  meals,  makes  the  fishing  nets,  and  weaves  the  blankets. 

The  men  devote  themselves  to  hunting,  fishing,  and  fighting. 
They  are  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  bow,  and  are,  it  is  said,  brave 
in  battle.  They  do  not  scalp,  but  cut  off  the  heads  of  their 
dead  and  cure  them  in  such  a way  that  they  can  use  the  skulls 
for  drinking-cups.  They  usually  kill  the  grown-up  members  of 
the  tribes  they  conquer,  but  save  the  children  to  become  braves 
and  wives. 

The  marriage  customs  of  the  Chaco  Indians  are  strange. 
Giovanni  Pelleschi,  an  Italian,  from  whose  diary  I got  some  of 
my  information,  says  that  when  one  of  the  Tobas  wants  to 
marry  he  paints  his  cheeks,  his  lips,  and  the  hollows  of  his  eyes 
red.  He  then  struts  about  the  tent  of  his  sweetheart,  and  later 
on  brings  all  the  sheep,  chickens,  skins,  and  other  property  he 
possesses  to  the  young  lady  and  offers  them  to  her  as  a present. 
If  she  accept  them  the  marriage  is  on,  and  he  can  come  in 
and  live  with  her  family,  shortly  afterward  removing  to  a hut  of 
his  own.  If  she  refuse,  he  goes  elsewhere.  I am  told  that  such 
marriages  are  happy,  that  the  women  are  faithful,  and  that  they 
make  good  mothers. 

These  Indians  are  not  very  intelligent.  They  cannot  count 
more  than  four.  They  have  no  money,  and  their  trading  is  al- 
together by  barter.  A community  of  interests  seems  to  prevail, 
and  if  one  of  the  women  gets  a piece  of  finery  from  a foreigner 
she  has  to  divide  it  with  her  sisters,  her  cousins,  and  her  aunts. 

The  wigwams  of  the  Chaco  are  different  from  those  of  our 
savages.  A village  often  has  its  huts  built  together,  so  that  one 
thatch  can  cover  a number  of  dwellings.  One  of  the  common 
houses  looks  much  like  a great  hay  waggon,  several  families  living 
in  the  different  apartments  under  it.  One  part  of  each  hut  is 
used  for  cooking  and  another  for  sleeping.  The  people  sleep  on 
skins  when  they  have  them,  otherwise  they  pass  the  night  on  the 


IN  THE  WILDS  OF  BRAZIL 


453 


bare  ground.  The  huts  are  so  well  made  that  they  do  not  leak. 
They  are  built  by  the  women,  and  when  completed  one  of  the 
braves  crawls  on  the  roof  and  stamps  about  to  see  if  he  can 
make  the  thatch  break  through.  If  he  cannot  the  hut  is  all 
right,  but  if  the  roof  give,  he  tells  his  wife  to  go  to  work  and 
make  it  over  again. 

The  Indian  women  are  said  to  be  good  cooks.  They  use  pots 
and  spits  for  cooking,  and  I am  told  they  always  wash  their 
pots  after  using  them.  They  use  shells  or  gourds  for  spoons, 
but  forks  are  unknown,  and  the  person  is  considered  happy  who 
owns  a knife. 

S.  A. — 2g 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 


IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OE  URUGUAY 

A Bird’s-Eyf.  View  of  the  Smallest  of  the  South  American  Republics  — 
The  richest  Land  south  of  the  Equator — A Look  at  Montevideo 
AND  ITS  BEAUTIFUL  HARBOUR  — ITS  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS,  ITS  THEATRES, 
Banks,  and  Stock-Exchange — How  Uruguay  is  Governed — Its 
Post  Offices,  Telephones,  Telegraphs,  and  Schools  — Strange  Street 
Scenes. 

ruguay  is  the  smallest  and  richest  State  south  of  the  equa- 
tor. It  lies  at  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  just 
across  from  the  Argentine  Republic,  and  at  the  south- 
east corner  of  Brazil.  The  whole  country  would  hardly  be  a 
mouthful  for  Argentina,  and  not  a good-sized  bite  for  Brazil;  but 
its  soil  is  as  fat  as  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  and  its  people  step 
high  on  the  stilts  of  self-esteem.  Most  of  the  countries  of  South 
America  are  extensive.  Brazil  is  as  large  as  the  whole  of  the 
United  States  without  Alaska  or  our  new  islands.  Argentina 
covers  more  territory  than  all  of  our  country  east  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, but  little  Uruguay  is  only  about  as  big  as  Missouri  and 
Connecticut.  It  is  about  the  size  of  North  Dakota,  though  not 
so  thickly  populated  as  Nebraska.  It  has  about  as  many  people 
as  Boston,  and  fully  one-third  of  these  are  in  the  capital,  Monte- 
video, which  at  present  is  considerably  less  populated  than  Cleve- 
land, Ohio. 

But  first  let  me  give  the  reader  a bird’s-eye  view  of  the  coun- 
try. If  you  could  look  at  Uruguay  from  a balloon  you  would  see 
that  it  is  gently  rolling;  it  has  no  hills  more  than  2,000  feet  high. 
The  land  is  spread  out  in  undulating  waves,  the  greater  part  of 
which  is  made  up  of  rich  pasture.  It  is  well- watered,  for  there 
are  rivers  and  streams  everywhere  and  but  few  swamps.  The 
climate  is  such  that  the  grass  is  green  all  the  year  round,  and 
the  cattle  and  sheep  are  fed  by  simply  turning  them  out  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves.  There  is  not  a barn  in  the  country.  You 
may  travel  a thousand  miles  and  not  see  a haystack  or  feeding- 
(454) 


(455)  CITY  OF  MONTEVIDEO,  URUGUAY 


IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OF  URUGUAY  457 

trough.  Still  there  are  flocks  and  herds  everywhere;  at  least, 
5,000,000  cattle,  13,000,000  sheep,  and  several  hundred  thousand 
horses  and  mules  are  sustained  without  trouble.  Talk  about  Job 
and  his  cattle  on  a thousand  hills!  In  respect  to  both  hills  and 
cattle,  Job  was  a pauper  compared  with  the  Uruguayans. 

The  land  is  well  adapted  to  support  a great  population.  It 
has  now  about  twelve  to  the  square  mile,  and  probably  not  half 

of  this  number  when  you  take  out  the  cities;  I doubt  whether 

there  is  a family  for  every  640  acres.  Still  the  soil  will  raise 
wheat.  It  grows  apples  and  pears  for  the  Buenos  Aires  market, 
and  it  has  strawberries  nine  months  in  the  year.  It  is  in  about 
the  latitude  of  Florida,  but  is  not  as  hot  in  summer,  nor  as  cold 
in  winter.  Its  seasons,  of  course,  are  just  the  opposite  of  ours; 
when  we  have  fall,  Uruguay  has  spring,  and  when  we  put  on  our 
sealskins  the  Uruguayan  ladies  are  using  their  fans.  August  is  the 
coldest  month,  and  along  about  January  the  weather  is  warmest. 

I spoke  of  the  land  being  well-watered.  The  streams  cover 
it  like  the  veins  of  a leaf.  The  veins  of  the  human  body  are 
not  more  in  number  than  the  waterways  of  Uruguay,  and  around 
almost  the  whole  of  the  Republic  there  is  a belt  of  water,  mak- 
ing it,  indeed,  a peninsula.  It  has,  in  fact,  about  700  miles  of 

navigable  waterways;  there  is  the  Atlantic  on  the  south  and 

southeast;  there  is  the  muddy  river  Plate  with  155  miles  of 
coast  line;  and  a little  farther  over  and  along  the  the  western 
boundary  are  270  miles  of  the  swift-flowing  Uruguay.  The  latter 
is  about  9 miles  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  during  most  of  the  }rear, 
steamboats  of  14  feet  draught  can  go  up  it  to  Pysandu,  a city 
near  the  middle  of  the  western  boundary.  From  this  point  you 
get  smaller  streams,  which  carry  you  farther  up,  and  the  Rio  Ne- 
gro, which  crawls  across  the  country  dividing  it  in  two  equal 
parts,  is  also  to  some  extent  navigable. 

Uruguay  has  few  large  cities.  It  is  like  Argentina  in  that  its 
capital  rules  it  and  forms  its  social,  intellectual,  financial,  and  in- 
dustrial centre.  There  are  perhaps  four  cities  which  range  be- 
tween 10,000  and  15,000  in  population,  and  a dozen  smaller  towns 
of  from  3,000  to  6,000  each.  These  are  market  towns  and  state 
capitals,  but  they  all  pay  tribute  to  Montevideo. 

Montevideo  calls  itself  the  Paris  of  South  America.  It  is  the 
healthiest  city  in  the  world  and  the  cleanest  city  on  the  conti- 
nent. Built  upon  a tongue  of  rock  which  runs  out  into  the 


458  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

muddy  Rio  de  la  Plata,  the  streets  all  drain  into  the  river,  and 
every  rain  gives  the  city  a washing.  There  is  water  on  all  sides 
of  you ; if  you  walk  up  or  down  a hill  you  come  to  the  sea,  and 
the  slope  is  such  that  there  are  no  stagnant  pools. 

Monte-video  means  a I see  the  mountain. >}  If  you  look  at  the 
root  of  this  tongue  of  rock  you  will  really  see  the  mountain, 
from  which  the  city  is  named.  It  is  called  (<  The  Cerro”;  but 
so  far  from  being  a mountain,  it  is  not  quite  as  high  as  the 
Washington  Monument.  At  night  you  may  distinguish  twenty- 
five  miles  out  at  sea  the  revolving  light  upon  its  tower,  but  even 
if  this  were  unlighted  you  could  tell  that  the  Cerro  was  there. 
How  ? Why,  by  its  smell.  There  is  a great  slaughter-house  on 
the  Cerro  in  which  200,000  cattle  are  killed  every  year,  and  from 
which,  during  a land  breeze,  a disgusting  odour  is  wafted  over 
the  waters.  Long  before  I could  see  the  city,  I knew  by  this 
smell  that  I was  approaching  Montevideo. 

The  bay  of  Montevideo  is  naturally  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world.  It  is  in  the  shape  of  a horseshoe,  six  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  so  large  that  many  hundred  ocean  steamers  could 
be  in  it  at  a time.  Hundreds  of  steamers  formerly  cast  anchor 
here.  This  is  not  the  case  now,  although  more  than  a thousand 
ships  call  at  the  port  annually.  The  waters  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata 
for  the  past  seventy  years  have  been  dropping  mud  into  the  bay. 
They  have  been  filling  it  up  at  the  rate  of  an  inch  a year,  and 
now  no  ship  that  draws  more  than  fifteen  feet  can  come  in.  The 
result  is  that  the  ocean  steamers  must  anchor  far  out  in  the  river 
and  all  goods  have  to  be  brought  in  upon  lighters.  We  were 
carried  to  the  city  on  a steam-tug,  our  ship  remaining  several 
miles  from  land. 

For  years  Montevideo  has  been  planning  to  dredge  this  bay. 
It  is  estimated  that  it  will  cost  $30,000,000  to  clean  out  the  mud, 
but  the  result  would  be  worth  much  more  than  that  to  the  city. 
It  might  make  it  the  chief  port  of  the  river  Plate,  as  it  is  al- 
ready the  chief  port  of  the  country.  There  are  now  daily  steam- 
ers from  Montevideo  to  Buenos  Aires,  and  every  day  or  so  you 
can  get  a ship  for  Europe.  There  are  also  steamers  to  and  from 
the  ports  of  Brazil,  and  river  boats  which  will  take  you  thou- 
sands of  miles  up  the  Parana,  Paraguay,  and  Uruguay.  I trav- 
elled more  than  1,200  miles  on  river  steamers  in  coming  down 
from  Asuncion  to  Montevideo. 


IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OF  URUGUAY 


459 


I find  Montevideo  better  built  than  most  other  South  American 
cities.  About  one-fifth  of  the  houses  are  of  three  stories.  They 
are  of  a stone  quarried  near  by  and  are  in  architecture  more 
like  the  buildings  of  Europe  than  those  of  South  America. 
Many  of  the  houses  are  covered  with  stucco,  painted  in  bright 
colours.  Some  are  quite  large.  The  Solis  Theatre,  for  instance, 
covers  almost  two  acres,  and  will  seat  3,000  spectators.  It  was 
built  more  than  40  years  ago  and  cost  $300,000  at  that  time. 
Sarah  Bernhardt  has  played  in  it,  and  Patti  has  also  been  lis- 
tened to  within  its  walls. 


THE  THEATRE  SOLIS,  MONTEVIDEO 

Another  fine  building  is  the  (<  bolsa, ” or  stock-exchange,  situ- 
ated at  the  corner  of  Zavala  and  Piedras  streets.  This  was  built 
in  1863  and  cost  just  about  half  as  much  as  the  opera  house. 
It  is  the  stock-gambling  place  of  Uruguay,  and,  like  the  stock- 
exchange  of  Buenos  Aires,  has  seen  some  notable  crazes.  Uru- 
guay went  mad  about  the  year  1890,  as  did  Argentina:  it  had 
one  bank  with  a capital  of  $12,000,000,  whose  stock  after  its 
failure,  some  years  ago,  dropped  to  80  per  cent  below  par.  At 
present  there  are  a number  of  good  banks,  some  of  the  largest 
being  branches  of  the  foreign  banks  doing  business  at  Buenos 


460  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Aires.  Money  brings  good  rates  of  interest,  and,  as  far  as  I can 
learn,  all  of  the  banks  pay  dividends. 

Referring  to  money  matters  in  Uruguay,  I may  say  that  this 
is  the  only  South  American  country  I have  visited  which  is  on  a 
gold  basis.  In  Peru,  Chile,  Bolivia,  and  the  Argentine,  I got 
about  $3  for  $i  in  negotiating  my  drafts  on  London;  while  in 
Paraguay,  when  I made  a draft  for  $100  in  gold  I usually  re- 
ceived about  $700  in  Paraguayan  money.  This  was  very  pleas- 
ing, for  although  the  money  had  not  a purchasing  value  equal 
to  its  face  value,  it  went  a great  deal  farther  than  the  same 
amount  reduced  to  gold.  In  Montevideo  an  American  dollar  is 
worth  only  96  cents  and  for  an  English  pound  you  get  but  $4.72. 

Cab  fares  here  cost  50  cents  a trip  or  $1  per  hour.  In  Buenos 
Aires  I paid  the  same  price  in  Argentine  money,  or  less  than  33 
cents  Uruguayan;  the  result  is  that  everything  is  dear  and  money 
does  not  go  half  so  far.  At  the  hotel  in  Montevideo  I pay  $3  per 
day,  which  is  almost  a gold  dollar  more  than  I paid  at  Buenos 
Aires,  where  the  rate  was  $8  in  Argentine  money.  A bottle  of 
St.  Julien,  which  I had  the  other  day,  cost  me  $4,  and  everything 
else  is  proportionately  high. 

There  is  now  talk  of  establishing  a bank  with  a capital  of 
$10,000,000,  which  shall  be  under  the  control  of  the  government, 
and  shall  have  the  right  to  issue  bank  notes  to  half  the  value  of 
the  capital  subscribed.  This  bank  will  be  called  the  Bank  of  the 
Republic.  It  can  pay  its  notes  in  gold  or  silver,  at  its  own  dis- 
cretion, and  the  president  and  directors  are  to  be  appointed  by 
the  government.  The  scheme,  if  carried  out,  will  in  all  probabil- 
ity reduce  Uruguay  to  a silver  basis,  for  such  financial  institu- 
tions under  a South  American  government  cannot  be  trusted. 
The  officers  in  power  to-day  may  be  all  right,  but  those  who  come 
in  by  the  revolution  of  to-morrow  are  more  than  likely  to  be  all 
wrong.  Such  a national  bank  would  always  be  at  the  mercy  of 
the  President  of  Uruguay,  and  there  is  no  telling  when  an  Ex- 
ecutive may  arise  who  will  not  embezzle  the  funds.  Borda,  the 
last  President,  had  nothing  when  he  was  elected;  when  he  was 
assassinated  his  estate  was  worth  $3,000,000,  and  his  widow  to-day 
has  villas,  farms,  and  gold  galore.  Another  President,  I am  told, 
stole  about  $5,000,000  from  a former  national  bank  during  his 
administration.  He  had  the  appointment  of  the  directors,  and 
would  send  down  for  $50,000  at  a time,  for  his  personal  use.  As 


IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OF  URUGUAY 


461 


a result  of  such  extravagance  and  corruption,  running  through  a 
series  of  years,  Uruguay  has  now  an  enormous  national  debt.  Its 
foreign  debt  amounts  to  more  than  $128,000,000,  and  it  is  paying 
annually  in  interest  alone  about  $4,000,000.  The  debt,  if  divided 
up,  would  require  the  payment  of  $140  by  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  in  the  country,  or  of  about  $700  per  family.  The  debt, 
in  fact,  is  almost  half  the  estimated  value  of  the  real  estate  of 
the  Republic,  which  in  round  numbers,  in  1895,  was  $275,000,000, 
of  which  almost  half  is  located  in  the  department  of  Montevideo. 


CATHEDRAL  AND  PLAZA,  MONTEVIDEO 


And  still  the  Uruguayan  capital  rather  prides  itself  upon  its 
thrift  and  piety.  It  has  a cathedral,  churches,  convents,  and  hos- 
pitals. The  cathedral  is  now  about  a hundred  years  old,  and 
is  as  solid  as  when  it  was  built.  The  Church  of  the  Immacu- 
late Conception  was  constructed  by  the  milkmen  and  market- 
gardeners;  and  there  are  forty  charitable  institutions,  with  12,000 
members,  that  spend  $250,000  a year  on  behalf  of  the  poor  and 
sick.  There  is  a foundling  asylum  that  provides  for  280  babies 
annually;  the  institution,  I am  told,  buries  more  than  half  of 
them  before  they  get  into  short  clothes.  The  percentage  of 


462  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

illegitimacy  is  large,  fully  one-fourth  of  the  children  of  the 
country  not  being  w wise  enough  to  know  their  own  fathers.” 
This,  I am  told,  is  in  large  measure  due  to  the  costly  marriage 
fees. 

The  state  religion  is  that  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  the 
Protestants  being  but  a drop  in  the  bucket  of  Uruguayan  life. 
In  the  Department  of  Montevideo  alone  there  are  179,000  Catho- 
lics to  about  11,000  Protestants,  and  23,000  others  who  are  of  no 
declared  religion.  I understand  that  Protestants  are  well  treated 
and  that  in  the  cities  religious  intolerance  is  unknown. 

Montevideo  is  noted  for  its  culture.  It  is  a city  of  news- 
papers, libraries,  and  schools.  It  has  a national  library,  which  con- 
tains 22,000  volumes.  It  has  a national  museum,  in  which  there 
are  33,000  objects,  and  it  has  its  daily,  weekly,  and  monthly  peri- 
odicals. It  is  the  centre  of  intelligence  for  the  country,  and  the 
leading  dailies,  weeklies,  and  monthlies  are  published  here.  Most 
of  the  dailies  are  in  Spanish,  but  there  are  two  in  English,  one 
in  Italian,  and  one  in  French. 

As  to  the  school  system,  this  is  steadily  improving.  There  are 
500  more  schools  in  Uruguay  now  than  there  were  in  1876,  al- 
though as  yet  only  9 per  cent  of  the  population  attend  them,  and 
the  majority  of  the  common  people  cannot  read  or  write.  There 
are  now  close  upon  1,000  institutions  of  learning,  public  and  pri- 
vate. There  are  about  2,000  school-teachers,  of  whom  more  than 
two-thirds  are  women.  Teachers  are  well  paid,  the  average  amount 
paid  them  being  about  $35  per  month.  Most  of  the  teachers  are 
foreigners,  there  being  only  606  native  teachers  of  the  2,000  in 
the  service.  Normal  schools  have,  however,  been  established,  and 
there  will  be  an  increased  number  of  native  teachers  in  the  fu- 
ture. Montevideo  has  a university  with  85  professors  and  549 
students.  The  course  in  this  institution  is  very  complete,  law, 
medicine,  engineering,  and  the  ordinary  college  studies  being 
taught.  It  is  controlled  by  the  government,  which  also  supports 
an  industrial  school,  having  243  pupils,  and  a military  college, 
which  has  48  students  in  attendance. 

The  country  has  good  postal  and  telegraph  systems.  It  has 
more  than  4,000  miles  of  telegraph  lines  and  nearly  350,000  tele- 
grams are  annually  sent.  There  are  636  post  offices,  and  last 
year  the  post  office  handled  in  the  neighbourhood  of  10,000,000 
letters  and  about  26,000,000  newspapers  and  packages. 


IN  THE  LITTLE  LAND  OF  URUGUAY 


463 


But  let  us  go  through  the  city  and  look  at  the  people.  We 
make  the  wharf  our  starting-point  and  walk  over  the  cobblestones 
up  the  hills  in  the  shadow  of  three-story  buildings.  We  stop  on 
the  corner  to  get  our  boots  blackened  and  are  charged  the  regu- 
lation five  cents  a shine.  Newsboys  accost  us  with  the  daily 
papers,  just  as  they  do  in  New  York,  and  well-dressed  women 
and  men  pass  by. 

There  are  many  curious  sights.  Men  go  by  us  with  loads  on 
their  heads  or  on  their  backs.  Here  comes  a milk-peddler;  he  is 
of  the  same  style  as  those  of  the  smaller  cities  of  the  Argentine 
Republic.  He  sits  on  his  horse  with  his  legs  about  its  neck  and 
almost  on  the  top  of  the  leather  buckets  that  contain  his  milk 
cans.  Each  one  is  corked  with  a round  piece  of  wood  wrapped 
in  a dirty  rag,  and  I doubt  whether  he  changes  the  rag  from 
one  year’s  end  to  the  other.  There  he  has  stopped  and  has 
gone  into  the  house.  His  horse  stands  still,  although  there  is  no 
hitching-post  or  iron  ring  in  sight.  He  has  hobbled  the  front 
feet  of  the  animal  with  the  whip.  These  men  supply  the  city  of 
more  than  250,000  inhabitants  with  milk.  They  used  to  supply 
it  with  butter,  which  they  made  by  galloping  their  horses  so 
that  the  jolting  did  the  churning.  Then,  I am  told,  when  you 
wanted  butter  the  man  dipped  his  hands  into  one  of  the  cans 
and  squeezed  up  a chunk.  It  is  still  the  same  outside  the  cities; 
little  butter  is  used  by  the  common  people,  and  there  are  farm- 
ers with  thousands  of  cows  who  eat  their  bread  dry. 

Listen  to  the  horns!  We  hear  them  every  few  moments  as 
we  pass  along  the  street,  and  wonder  whether  it  is  the  Uru- 
guayan Fourth  of  July,  or  Christmas,  or  New  Year,  and  whether 
or  not  the  boys  are  out  for  a holiday.  We  soon  see  that  the 
horns  are  blown  by  street-car  drivers,  who  thus  notifiy  all  to  keep 
out  of  the  way.  They  sound  their  horns  at  every  street  corner 
and  now  and  then  give  a toot  between  times.  The  cars  are 
drawn  by  horses,  and  so  far  electricity  as  a motive  power  has  not 
appeared.  There  are  electric  lights,  however,  and  at  public  cele- 
brations the  whole  city  is  ablaze  with  incandescent  globes  of  all 
colours. 

There  are  few  cabs.  The  many  hills  and  the  cobblestone 
roads  retard  their  use,  and  the  people  rely  upon  the  cars  as  their 
chief  mode  of  transit.  The  draying  and  heavy  hauling  of  Mon- 
tevideo is  done  in  carts,  to  which  two  or  three  mules  are  har- 


464  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

nessed,  one  on  the  inside,  and  the  others  on  the  outside  of  the 
shafts.  The  driver  usually  rides  one  of  the  outside  mules.  The 
carts  have  wheels  from  six  to  eight  feet  high,  with  hubs  as  big 
round  as  scrubbing  buckets  and  shafts  the  size  of  telegraph  poles. 
As  we  go  farther  we  see  that  nearly  all  vehicles  are  two-wheeled. 
We  ask  why,  and  learn  that  taxes  on  such  things  are  paid  by 
the  wheel,  and  that  a two-wheeled  vehicle  pays  only  half  as 
much  as  one  with  four  wheels. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 

He  Lives  upon  a Political  Volcano  and  is  always  in  Danger  of  Assas- 
sination— A Land  of  Revolutions  — An  Evening  at  the  « White 
House”  of  Montevideo  guarded  by  Gatling  guns  on  the  Roof  — 
High  Life  in  the  Uruguayan  Capital — Queer  Customs  of  Court- 
ship and  Marriage  — How  young  Men  Play  the  Dragon,  and  why 

THERE  ARE  no  BREACH-OF-PROMISE  SUITS. 

hile  in  Montevideo  I spent  an  evening  at  the  President’s 
mansion.  The  occasion  was  one  of  his  weekly  recep- 
tions, and  the  wealth,  culture,  and  beauty  of  the  capital 
were  present.  I might  add  the  courage,  for  the  reception  was 
held  under  curious  conditions.  There  were  soldiers  at  the  door 
who  scrutinized  every  guest  as  he  passed  in.  I felt  their  eyes 
bore  through  me  when  I entered  with  our  consul-general  and  his 
family.  Gatling  guns,  cannon,  and  dynamite  bombs  looked  down 
upon  us  from  the  roof,  and  I doubt  not  private  detectives  were 
stationed  here  and  there  along  the  streets. 

The  President  of  Uruguay  — Juan  L.  Cuestas  — lives  upon  a 
political  volcano.  He  is  in  daily  danger  of  assassination,  and  he 
never  knows  when  a revolution  may  spring  up  to  overthrow 
him.  He  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  South  American 
politics;  he  was  vice-president  at  the  time  of  the  assassination 
of  Senor  Idiarte  Borda,  and  thereby  became  president.  He  is 
still  in  office,  and  has  made  himself  dictator  of  the  Republic. 

At  one  time  a revolution  sprung  up  to  overthrow  him.  The 
army  had  its  headquarters  not  far  from  Montevideo,  and  many 
of  the  chief  officers  were  in  the  conspiracy.  If  they  could  have 
trusted  each  other,  Cuestas  would  have  been  killed.  The  revolu- 
tion failed  because  the  man  who  was  to  have  cut  the  telephone 
wires  between  the  station  and  the  city  did  not  do  his  duty.  The 
result  was  that  the  President  was  notified  as  soon  as  the  army 
set  out  for  Montevideo.  The  officers,  finding  that  they  were  dis- 
covered. suspected  each  other  of  treachery;  some  began  to  back 

(465) 


466  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

out,  withdrawing  their  troops,  and  the  police  were  able  to  control 
the  remainder. 

For  such  reasons,  President  Cuestas  never  moves  about 
without  an  armed  guard.  His  residence  is  in  the  street  of  the 


JUAN  L.  CUESTAS.  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 

Eighteenth  of  July,  at  quite  a distance  from  the  administration 
buildings.  When  he  goes  from  his  house  to  his  office  he  has 
soldiers  about  him,  and  there  are  ten  outriders  on  white  horses 
in  front  and  behind  his  carriage.  No  one  is  permitted  to  enter 


(468)  MONTEVIDEO,  URUGUAY 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 


469 


the  presidential  mansion  at  any  time  without  the  permission  of 
the  soldiers,  and  half-way  up  the  marble  staircase  there  is  a mil- 
itary aide,  who  carefully  scrutinizes  all  who  go  by. 

Passing  this  official  we  proceeded  to  the  second  floor,  and 
were  soon  in  the  President’s  parlours.  They  are  very  large,  and 
are  as  well  furnished  as  those  of  the  White  House  at  Washing- 
ton. At  the  time  we  entered  they  were  filled  with  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  who  were  laughing  and  gossiping  about  subjects  of 
passing  interest,  and  as  unconcernedly  as  though  they  were  at  a 
church  social,  and  not  sandwiched,  as  it  were,  between  Gatling 
guns  and  military  guards  in  the  midst  of  possible  revolution. 
The  ladies  wore  low  necks  and  short  sleeves  and  the  gentlemen 
were  in  evening  dress. 

When  we  came  in,  the  wife,  daughter,  and  sons  of  the  Presi- 
dent were  entertaining  the  guests,  His  Excellency,  the  President, 
having  not  yet  entered.  Shortly  after  shaking  hands  with  us, 
Madame  Cuestas  led  us  to  one  end  of  the  room,  where  there  was 
a large  sofa  with  chairs  facing  each  other  and  running  out  into 
the  room  at  right  angles  to  its  two  ends.  She  and  her  daughter 
sat  on  the  sofa,  and  the  distinguished  guests  and  ourselves  occu- 
pied the  chairs.  This  is  the  way  a Montevideon  hostess  re- 
ceives her  callers;  it  is  the  form  of  seating  in  the  better-class 
houses  all  over  South  America.  We  chatted  some  time  with  the 
President’s  wife,  while  callers  came  and  went,  shaking  hands  with 
everyone  in  the  room  as  they  entered,  and  with  Madame  Cuestas 
and  all  of  the  guests  upon  retiring. 

The  Orientales,  for  that  is  what  the  Uruguayans  call  them- 
selves, are  noted  for  their  beautiful,  cultured,  and  fashionably 
dressed  women.  They  vie  with  the  Portenos,  or  Buenos  Aires 
women,  as  to  beauty,  and  consider  themselves  much  more  aristo- 
cratic and  high-born.  They  call  Montevideo  the  Paris  and  the 
Madrid  of  South  America.  It  must  be  confessed  that  they  have 
some  reason  for  the  claim.  The  city  has  magnificent  homes,  as 
well  as  a great  many  wealthy  inhabitants.  It  has  its  fashionable 
“four  hundred,”  who  are  as  well-dressed  and  as  well-bred  people 
as  you  will  find  anywhere. 

They  have  fine  houses  and  well-padded  pocket-books.  Many  of 
them  trace  their  descent  from  families  that  came  to  Uruguay  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago.  Their  possessions  are  in  great  estates,  rented 
houses,  and  in  cattle  and  sheep.  They  have  their  palaces  in  Mon- 
S.  A.— 30 


47°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

tevideo,  whose  floors  are  marble,  and  whose  ceilings  are  frescoed 
and  upheld  by  marble  columns  from  Italy.  They  have  vast  one- 
story  buildings  on  their  estates,  where  in  summer  time  they 
entertain  like  lords,  supplying  every  guest  with  a horse.  In  the 
winter,  their  surroundings  are  equally  pretentious,  but  very  un- 
comfortable, for  the  houses  of  Montevideo  are  as  frigid  as  the 
white  marble  in  which  they  are  finished.  The  people  believe 
artificial  heat  unhealthy,  and  in  this  city,  which  is  as  large  as 
Washington,  and  quite  as  cold,  there  is  not  a furnace  or  a steam- 
heating plant.  During  cold  snaps,  a hostess  often  receives  dressed 
in  furs,  with  her  hands  in  a muff  and  her  feet  on  a hot-water 
bottle,  and  gentlemen  and  ladies  come  to  state  dinners  in  over- 
coats and  fur  capes. 

Rich  families  have  hosts  of  servants;  they  have  their  coach- 
men and  footmen,  their  housemaids,  ladies’  maids,  and  serving 
women.  Men  cooks  are  often  employed;  in  such  cases  it  is  cus- 
tomary to  give  the  cook  a certain  amount  per  day,  and  allow 
him  to  do  the  marketing  and  take  his  wages  out  of  the  daily  allow- 
ance. Even  where  he  is  given  the  money  for  marketing  only,  it 
is  expected  that  he  will  steal  a little  every  day.  The  wages  of 
servants  are  high;  cooks  receive  from  $14  to  $25  per  month,  or 
about  as  much  as  they  do  in  Washington,  while  housemaids  are 
paid  from  $10  to  $18  per  mouth  — the  amounts  being  in  gold. 

Uruguayan  families  are  large.  When  a young  man  is  married 
he  brings  his  better-half  to  live  with  the  old  folks,  and  often 
half-a-dozen  families  will  reside  in  one  house.  As  a rule,  the 
girl  goes  to  the  husband’s  family. 

It  would  surprise  many  Americans  who  look  upon  society 
south  of  the  equator  as  half-savage  to  know  that  there  are  many 
Montevideon  women  who  wear  evening  and  visiting  dresses  that 
cost  $100  dollars  apiece,  and  that  a few  of  the  “upper  ten  w have 
single  dresses  in  their  wardrobes  for  which  they  have  paid  from 
$500  to  $1,000  in  gold.  Their  best  dresses  come  from  Paris,  and 
they  have  the  latest  styles  as  soon  as  New  York.  They  are 
fond  of  diamonds,  the  use  of  jewels  being  more  common  in  Monte- 
video than  in  either  New  York  or  Washington.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, the  case  of  a recent  dinner  here:  one  of  the  best-dressed 
women  present  was  the  wife  of  the  vice  consul-general  of  the 
United  States,  an  Orientale  of  one  of  the  first  families.  At  this 
dinner  she  wore  a gown  of  brocaded  white  satin,  trimmed  with 


(47i)  AVENUE  OF  EUCALYPTUS  TREES,  MONTEVIDEO 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 


473 


a wide  drapery  of  point  lace,  which  festooned  the  whole  skirt  and 
its  long  train.  Her  corsage  was  trimmed  with  a row  of  diamond 
butterflies,  some  of  which  were  quite  large,  and  these  diamonds 
ran  from  shoulder  to  shoulder.  At  the  dinner  there  were  other 
costumes  equally  costly,  the  most  common  of  the  ornaments  being 
aigret  plumes,  fastened  to  the  hair  with  elaborate  diamond  pins. 

Uruguayan  women  are  of  the  Spanish  type,  tall  and  well- 
formed.  The  scrawny  girls  are  few,  and  the  average  maiden  is 
large-boned,  well-rounded,  and  plump.  As  the  women  grow  older 
they  run  to  adipose  tissue,  and  not  a few  of  the  elderly  dames 
are  fat.  The  type  is  uniform ; the  eyes  of  most  of  the  women 
are  dark,  but  full  of  lustre,  and  their  complexions  are  clear,  dark, 
and  rosy.  Both  young  men  and  young  women  look  clean  and 
healthy,  and  show  great  animation  of  face  and  manner.  The 
men  are  as  careful  of  their  dress  as  are  the  women,  and  those  of 
the  upper  classes  are  very  particular  as  to  what  they  wear  on 
every  occasion. 

There  are  few  cities  where  etiquette  is  of  more  account  than 
in  the  South  American  capitals.  There  is  in  Montevideo  an 
etiquette  of  the  pavement.  The  Orientale  thinks  no  one  but  a 
boor  would  allow  a lady  to  walk  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  pave- 
ment in  going  along  the  street;  the  inside  is  the  place  of  honour, 
and  the  lady  must  always  have  it.  If  two  ladies  go  together,  the 
younger  lady  always  takes  the  outside.  If  two  gentlemen  walk 
together,  each  vies  with  the  other  in  trying  to  make  him  take 
the  inside.  A host  must  always  give  his  guest  the  inside,  and  the 
man  of  lower  rank  gives  the  man  of  higher  rank  with  whom  he 
is  walking  the  inner  honourable  path. 

Girls  do  not  appear  on  the  streets  without  chaperones.  If  a 
young  woman  go  out  for  a walk  or  to  shop,  she  cannot  do  so 
unless  her  mother,  or  her  aunt,  or  servant  maid  is  with  her. 
She  may  take  a nurse  girl  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  not  because 
she  is  of  any  earthly  good  to  guard  her,  but  as  a badge  of  re- 
spectability as  a chaperone.  Women  never  make  the  first  bow 
to  the  men  they  meet  on  the  street;  the  man  must  take  off  his 
hat,  or  the  woman  cannot  notice  him,  and  if  he  does  not  do  this 
it  will  be  considered  a slight  by  the  woman.  Young  unmarried 
men  and  women  cannot  walk  along  the  street  together,  chap- 
erone or  no  chaperone,  and  a young  woman  and  young  man  who 
should  go  out  for  a moonlight  drive  would  not  only  lose  their 


474  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

reputations,  but  would  be  socially  ostracised.  Young  men  who 
have  sisters  never  ask  their  young  men  friends  to  come  to  their 
houses,  and  as  for  a young  man  spending  an  evening  alone  with 
his  lady-love — such  a thing  is  unheard  of. 

Even  among  themselves  young  women  have  no  such  inter- 
course as  in  the  United  States.  There  are  no  musical  clubs, 


MONTEVIDEON  BEAUTY 

Shakespeare  clubs,  or  women’s  missionary  societies.  A young 
man  has  no  chance  to  learn  the  character  of  a woman  before  he 
proposes  for  her  hand.  Even  his  sisters  can  know  little  about 
her;  his  only  possible  avenue  of  information  is  through  the  serv- 
ants. From  these,  if  he  care  to  stoop  so  low,  he  may  possibly 
learn  something  as  to  the  young  lady’s  disposition  and  habits  — 
whether  she  is  or  is  not  <(  a big-eater  ® and  what  it  takes  to  keep 


(476)  PRIVATE  GARDENS,  MONTEVIDEO,  URUGUAY 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  URUGUAY 


477 


her.  His  only  chance  of  seeing  the  girl  will  be  at  the  regular 
receptions  of  the  family  during  the  season.  These  are  held  weekly, 
and  at  them  both  gentlemen  and  ladies  are  at  home.  The  usual 
hours  for  such  functions  are  from  4 to  7 in  the  afternoon  and 
from  9 to  12  at  night.  During  the  afternoon-calling  wine  and 
tea  are  served;  and  in  the  evening,  at  11  o’clock,  the  guests  are 
invited  to  the  dining-room  for  refreshments.  Evening  dances  and 
parties  usually  last  so  long  that  the  more  devout  are  able  to  at- 
tend morning  masses  on  their  way  home.  Dinners  are  elaborate, 
a different  wine  being  usually  served  with  each  course,  and  cham- 
pagne with  dessert;  coffee  and  liquors  are  taken  in  the  parlours 
after  dinner. 

Among  the  singular  customs  of  the  country  are  those  of 
courtship  and  marriage.  The  girls  are  carefully  watched,  and 
there  is  no  indiscriminate  love-making  without  the  chaperonage 
of  the  parents  or  members  of  the  family.  Young  ladies  would 
be  compromised  if  they  had  gentlemen  callers;  indeed,  a man 
never  thinks  of  calling  upon  a young  woman  until  he  is  engaged 
to  her.  If  he  admires  her  and  wishes  to  know  her,  he  begins  his 
advances  by  <(  playing  the  dragon ® ; this  means  that  he  dresses 
himself  in  his  best  clothes  and  struts  up  and  down  before  her 
house,  while  she  looks  at  him  from  the  balcony.  Every  fashion- 
able house  in  Montevideo  has  a balcony,  and  the  chief  amuse- 
ment of  the  girls  is  to  stand  on  this  or  lean  out  of  the  windows 
looking  at  the  people  as  they  go  by. 

When  the  young  man  thus  walks  up  and  down  gazing  at  her 
window,  the  young  woman  understands  what  it  means  and  comes 
out  and  makes  sheep’s  eyes  in  the  same  direction.  The  two  will 
look  at  each  other  for  hours  without  a word  being  spoken.  Men 
may  come  and  men  may  go,  but  still  they  gaze.  As  a rule,  the 
passers-by  do  not  notice  the  lovers;  indeed,  it  is  not  always  safe 
to  do  so.  Your  action  may  be  misconstrued,  the  lover  may  be- 
come jealous,  and  a knife  thrust  under  the  fifth  rib,  most  likely 
given  in  the  dark,  may  follow. 

After  practising  this  dragon  act  for  some  time,  the  young  man 
may  go  to  the  father  of  the  girl  and  say  that  he  would  like  to 
call  upon  his  daughter  with  a view  to  proposing.  If  papa  says 
all  right,  he  calls,  and  a day  or  so  later  you  will  see  an  item  in 
the  paper  stating  that  young  Senor  So-and-So  is  paying  atten- 
tions to  Senorita  Thus-and-So,  and  that  a marriage  will  probably 
soon  take  place. 


478  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

When  the  young  man  calls  upon  his  sweetheart,  all  of  the 
family  are  in  the  room.  He  gets  her  as  far  off  as  he  can,  how- 
ever, and  devotes  himself  only  to  her.  From  this  time  on  until 
after  the  marriage,  he  must  pay  attentions  to  no  other  woman. 
If  he  go  to  a dance  or  party,  he  must  come  early  and  wait  for 
her,  and  he  will  spend  the  evening  with  her  alone.  At  every 
party  in  Montevideo  you  see  a number  of  these  young  lovers, 
who  are  called  novios,  waiting  for  their  affianced,  or  novias.  The 
girl  pays  attention  to  no  one  but  her  novio , while  the  boy  has 
eyes  alone  for  his  novia.  The  two  go  off  by  themselves  and  de- 
vote the  evening  to  mutual  soft-spooning  compliments. 

I am  told  that  such  couples  are  clogs  on  the  wheels  of  Mon- 
tevideon  society.  It  is  a wonder  that  mothers,  who  are  so  care- 
ful at  home,  will  let  their  girls  do  as  they  please  when  once  they 
are  engaged.  If  you  ask  a mother  where  her  daughter  is  at  such 
a reception,  she  will  say  that  she  is  with  her  novio , and  the  sub- 
ject is  dismissed  as  a matter  of  course.  I was  chatting  about  this 
one  day  with  one  of  the  Montevideon  society  ladies,  when  I asked: 
<(  What  do  you  do  if  the  novio  becomes  disgusted  and  ( goes  back  ) 
on  the  girl,  refusing  to  marry  her,  or  vice  versa?*  The  reply  was: 
(<You  seldom  hear  of  such  a case.  A young  man  who  would  act 
in  that  way  would  be  disgraced  by  society;  as  for  the  girls,  their 
chief  end  in  life  is  marriage,  and  the}7  don’t  dare  to  miss  the 
chance.  The  married  state  here  is  far  ahead  of  single  blessed- 
ness, for  it  is  the  married  woman  who  rules  society.  After  the 
wedding  she  can  do  as  she  pleases;  when  the  priest  performs  the 
ceremony  he  strikes  the  chains  of  maidenhood  from  her  ankles.  * 

The  weddings  of  the  Orientales  are  held  in  the  churches,  with 
a supper  and  dance  at  the  home  after  the  ceremony.  The  wed- 
ding gifts  are  very  elaborate,  generally  including  diamonds  and 
silver.  The  honeymoon  is  usually  spent  at  home,  the  Orientales 
not  believing  in  our  custom  of  taking  wedding-journeys.  They 
call  the  period  <(  La  Luna  de  Miel,®  or  the  moon  of  honey,  and, 
if  possible,  they  try  to  enjoy  it  alone.  If  the  wedding  be  in  the 
summer  and  the  family  be  at  the  time  in  the  country,  they  will 
come  to  the  town  house  and  open  it  up  for  themselves,  and  if  in 
the  winter  they  may  possibly  go  out  to  the  (<  estancia. (>  As  to 
their  permanent  quarters,  the  groom’s  father  usually  makes  a 
present  of  the  house  and  all  its  furniture,  often  including  table 
linen  beautifully  embroidered,  and  the  wife’s  father  does  as  well 
as  he  can  in  money  and  presents. 


USo-) 


GARDEN  IN  SAO  PAULO 


CHAPTER  L 


THE  BABY  REPUBLIC  OF  BRAZIL 

The  Portuguese  half  of  South  America  — An  enormous  Country  of  Vast 
Resources — Travels  through  West  Deutschland  — Thriving  Cities 
and  vast  Pastures  owned  by  Germans  — A Visit  to  the  Death  Har- 
bour of  Santos — How  Coffee  is  loaded  for  America  — Up  the  Moun- 
tains to  Sao  Paulo,  the  Great  Coffee  Metropolis. 

razil  is  the  baby  among  the  world’s  great  republics,  the 
biggest  infant  in  the  international  animal  show.  It  is 
less  than  ten  years  old  as  a republican  government,  and 
to  what  it  will  grow  no  one  can  tell.  It  has  twenty-one  States, 
some  of  which  like  Sao  Paulo,  where  I now  am,  are  growing  so 
powerful  that  they  may  break  off  from  the  main  body  politic 
and  become  republics  themselves.  Each  of  the  Brazilian  States 
has  its  local  politics  and  politicians.  Its  people  are  full  of  State 
pride,  and  the  federal  union  has  not  the  strength  that  it  has  in 
other  South  American  countries. 

Brazil  is  so  vast  and  its  sections  are  so  far  apart  that  without 
better  railroad  and  telegraphic  communications  it  will  be  impos- 
sible to  manage  it  well  from  Rio  de  Janeiro.  I have  written 
something  about  Matto  Grosso.  That  State  is  one-sixth  the  size 
of  the  United  States.  How  long  does  the  reader  think  it  takes 
the  federal  officials  to  get  to  it  from  Rio  de  Janeiro  ? It  requires 
more  than  a month  by  steamboat!  The  distance  is  3,840  miles, 
for  one  must  go  round  by  Montevideo  and  up  the  Paraguay  and 
other  rivers  to  reach  its  capital,  Cuyaba.  It  takes  a month  to  go 
from  Rio  to  Manaos,  the  capital  of  the  chief  province  of  the 
Amazon;  and  Para,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon,  is  almost  as 
far  away  from  Rio  as  it  is  from  the  United  States. 

Brazil  is  the  Russia  of  the  South  American  continent.  It  is 
as  extensive  as  the  United  States,  without  Alaska  and  our  out- 
lying possessions,  and  ranks  fifth  among  the  great  countries  of 
the  world.  It  is  longer  from  north  to  south  than  from  Pittsburg 

(481) 


482  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

to  San  Francisco,  and  wider  from  east  to  west  than  from  New 
York  to  Salt  Lake.  It  comprises  about  half  of  all  the  land  of 
South  America,  and  contains  more  than  half  its  people. 

We  look  upon  South  America  as  a Spanish  continent.  It 
would  be  just  as  proper  to  call  it  a Portuguese  continent,  for 
Brazil  is  Portuguese,  and  its  18,000,000  people  speak  the  Portu- 
guese tongue.  The  Brazilians  are  in  many  respects  different 
from  other  South  Americans;  they  have  a character  and  customs 
of  their  own,  and  they  are  now,  for  the  first  time,  managing  their 
country  for  themselves,  and  that  after  republican  methods. 

The  country  is  far  different,  physically,  from  what  I supposed 
it  to  be.  Many  of  us  look  upon  it  as  a vast  lowland  forest, 
with  here  and  there  a coffee  plantation  or  a rubber  grove,  and 
all  around  the  ghost  of  yellow  fever.  The  real  Brazil  is  an 
empire  with  soil  and  productions  equal  in  variety  to  the  United 
States,  and  a climate  in  many  parts  as  salubrious  as  that  of  any 
part  of  our  country.  Brazil  is  by  no  means  all  flat.  The  Ama- 
zon valley  is  a great  lowland  plain  about  as  wide  as  from  New 
York  to  Cleveland,  and  as  long  as  from  Philadelphia  to  Denver, 
sloping  gently  from  the  Andes  to  the  Atlantic.  It  is  covered 
with  forests,  but  much  of  it  is  healthful,  and  on  the  Amazon 
itself  the  weather  is  cool  for  a considerable  part  of  the  year. 

South  of  the  Amazon  valley  are  highlands,  some  sterile  and 
others  afflicted  with  terrible  droughts.  Just  below  the  Amazon 
they  are  having  a drought  now,  and  the  ships  of  the  Brazilian 
government  are  carrying  the  starving  people  to  the  rubber  camps 
where  they  can  get  work.  Below  the  highlands  are  other  great 

plains  varying  from  900  to  3,000  feet  above  the  sea,  and  having 

a climate  in  which  white  men  can  live.  On  these  plains  there 
are  rich  farms,  many  parts  of  which  need  only  a slight  cultiva- 
tion to  make  them  produce  abundantly. 

The  southern  half  of  Brazil  is  the  most  healthful  part  of  the 
country.  There  are  regions  there  which  are  as  healthful  as  any 

in  the  world.  I am  now  half  a mile  above  the  sea,  and  this  is 

the  character  of  most  of  the  land  of  this  region.  There  are  about 
1,500,000  people  in  the  State  of  Sao  Paulo.  The  State  of  Minas 
Geraes,  just  above  it,  has  4,000,000  people,  and  just  below  is  the 
well-settled  State  of  Rio  Grande  do  Sul. 

Rio  Grande  do  Sul  is  an  agricultural  province.  It  raises 
wheat  and  meat.  It  has  vast  pastures  on  which  hundreds  of 


THE  BABY  REPUBLIC  OF  BRAZIL 


483 


thousands  of  cattle  are  feeding.  It  has  beef  factories  in  which 
more  than  $7,000,000  worth  of  jerked  beef  was  made  last  year. 
At  the  town  of  Pelotas  alone  300,000  oxen  are  annually  slaugh- 
tered, and  there  are  factories  there  making  soap,  candles,  and 
manure  out  of  the  refuse. 

Rio  Grande  do  Sul  has  a number  of  cities,  in  which  are  street 
railroads,  colleges,  and  daily  newspapers.  In  the  capital,  Rio 
Grande,  there  are  five  daily  papers;  in  Porto  Alegre  six,  and  in 
Pelotas  four.  There  are  good  banks  conducted  by  Englishmen, 
but  nearly  all  other  businesses  are  managed  by  Germans.  There 
are  German  stores,  cigar  factories,  and  breweries.  About  one- 
sixth  of  all  the  inhabitants  are  Germans,  and  on  this  account 
the  country  has  been  called  West  Deutschland.  Of  late  a large 
number  of  Italians  and  Portuguese  have  come  in,  but  the  man- 
ufacturing and  nearly  all  the  export  trade  is  still  in  the  hands 
of  the  Germans,  and  they  own,  it  is  said,  about  one-fourth  of 
the  property.  In  a quarrel  between  Brazil  and  the  Kaiser, 
this  State  might  easily  break  away  and  demand  German  pro- 
tection. 

The  climate  of  Rio  Grande  do  Sul  is  about  that  of  Washing- 
ton city.  In  January,  midsummer,  the  thermometer  goes  up  as 
high  as  ioo°,  and  in  the  winter  month  of  July  the  ground  is 
often  covered  with  snow.  North  of  Rio  Grande  do  Sul  are  the 
States  of  Santa  Catharina  and  Parana,  both  of  which  will  some 
day  be  populated  by  Europeans.  They  are  very  similar  to  Rio 
Grande  and  have  vast  undeveloped  areas. 

Above  these  States  lies  Sao  Paulo,  one  of  the  best  provinces 
of  Brazil,  a region  which  furnishes  nearly  all  the  coffee  consumed 
in  the  United  States,  and  one  of  the  richest  countries  in  the 
world.  Generally  speaking,  it  occupies  a high  elevation,  although 
there  is  a low  strip  of  malarious  land  along  the  coast.  Back  of 
this  is  a range  of  mountains  about  3,000  feet  in  altitude,  and  then 
a plateau,  which  slopes  gently  toward  the  west.  The  soil  of  the 
plateau  is  a rich  red  loam,  producing  all  kinds  of  vegetables  and 
fruits,  and  also  coffee,  corn,  and  grain.  The  lands  along  the  coast 
are  good  for  sugar;  indeed,  the  first  sugar  in  Brazil  was  raised 
near  Santos.  Of  late,  sugar-planting  has  been  largely  given  up 
and  the  people  are  devoting  themselves  to  raising  coffee.  Many 
of  them  have  made  fortunes,  and,  as  a result,  the  capital  city  of 
Sao  Paulo  is  now  a town  of  rich  men. 


484  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  Paulistas,  as  the  people  of  Sao  Paulo  are  called,  have  al- 
ways been  the  best  of  the  Brazilians.  They  were  among  the  first 
settlers,  showing  their  enterprise  at  the  outset  as  kidnappers  in 
stealing  Indians  and  making  them  work.  It  is  estimated  that  they 
captured  2,000,000  Indians  in  three  centuries.  Later  on,  they  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  other  ways.  They  have  now  the  best 
railroads  in  Brazil,  the  most  modern  improvements,  and  the  best 
government.  The  State  obtains  its  revenue  from  an  export  tax, 


SAO  PAULO,  BRAZIL 


and,  as  the  coffee  exports  run  into  many  millions  a year,  it  has 
a large  revenue. 

Sao  Paulo  is  the  largest  city  in  southern  Brazil,  and  one  of 
the  richest  cities  in  South  America.  It  is  the  coffee  metropolis 
of  the  country,  being  connected  by  rail  with  the  coffee-growing 
districts  and  also  with  the  great  coffee  port  of  Santos,  on  the  At- 
lantic. I came  from  Montevideo  to  Santos  in  a Royal  Mail 
steamer  and  thence  here  on  the  railroad.  I am  housed  in  a good 
hotel  and  my  surroundings  are  pleasant.  Sao  Paulo  is  one  of  the 


THE  BABY  REPUBLIC  OF  BRAZIL 


485 


best  towns  on  the  continent;  it  is  wide-a-wake  and  has  many 
good  buildings  and  fine  stores,  showing  that  the  people  spend 
freely  of  their  money. 

Let  us  walk  out  on  the  streets.  It  is  early  morning  and  the 
children  are  just  going  to  school;  among  them  are  some  bright- 
faced little  girls,  without  hats,  and  little  boys  with  hats  and 
bare  legs;  they  are  trudging  along  over  the  cobblestone  streets, 
with  their  school-books  on  their  backs.  Here  come  the  street 
cars!  They  are  painted  red  and  are  drawn  by  mules.  What 


ONE  OF  BRAZIL'S  NORMAL  SCHOOLS 


a lot  of  them  there  are!  They  go  along  a-train,  one  car  fol- 
lowing the  other  until  they  are  beyond  the  business  streets, 
when  they  separate  so  as  to  reach  the  various  sections  of  the 
suburbs.  Some  of  the  cars  are  loaded  with  freight.  A man 
with  a basket  cannot  get  into  a first-class  car,  and  people  return- 
ing from  market  have  to  use  the  freight  cars.  There  comes  a 
car  loaded  with  newspapers,  for  Sao  Paulo  has  half-a-dozen 
dailies.  We  find  newsboys  selling  papers  on  every  corner.  The 
negroes,  we  notice  also,  are  numerous;  there  are  more  here  than 
there  are  in  Washington.  There  come  three  coloured  men  now!  — 
S.  A.— 31 


486  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

labourers  on  their  way  to  work.  Hear  them  talk  as  they  pass! 
This  one  is  laughing;  his  a yah ! yah!  yah ! w is  just  like  the  laugh 
of  one  of  our  dark-skinned  Americans,  but  the  language  of  the 
conversation  is  Portuguese,  and  though  we  have  heard  the  words 
we  cannot  .see  the  joke.  We  go  out  into  the  suburbs.  The 
houses  on  the  edge  of  the  city  are  as  fine  as  our  own.  We  visit 
the  public  buildings  and  find  them  also  equal  to  those  of  the 
State  capitals  in  our  country,  and  I doubt  if  we  have  a college 
building  which  will  compare  with  the  Normal  School  of  Sao 
Paulo. 

It  was  by  way  of  Santos  that  I came  to  Sao  Paulo,  passing 
through  its  malarious  harbour,  and  spending  some  time  in  one  of 
the  unhealthiest  cities  in  the  world.  Santos  is  seldom  free  from 
yellow  fever,  and  at  times  even  the  sailors  in  the  harbour  are 
decimated  by  it.  Some  captains  do  not  allow  their  men  to  go 
ashore  while  in  port,  and  one  steamship  company  has  purchased 
an  island  near  by,  on  which  its  sailors  are  housed  while  the 
ships  are  being  loaded.  The  city,  however,  is  beautifully  situated. 
It  lies  right  under  the  mountains,  at  the  end  of  a winding  water- 
way, about  which  our  ship  twisted  this  way  and  that  as  it  sailed 
in  from  the  Atlantic.  The  water  was  of  a bilious  green.  Low 
hills  and  islands,  covered  with  thick  woods,  rose  in  front  of  us, 
and  smoky  forbidding  clouds  hung  over  Santos  like  a pall.  All 
nature  was  gloomy,  and  the  surroundings  made  me  feel  as  if  I 
were  in  a valley  of  death.  The  air  was  soft,  moist,  and  warm. 
Our  steamer  moved  slowly  in,  rising  and  falling  with  the  tide, 
the  engine  making  a muffled  sound  on  the  soft  still  air.  As  we 
came  nearer  we  could  see  coloured  buildings  lining  the  shore.  Some 
were  shaded  by  palm  trees,  their  long  fan-like  leaves  hanging 
listlessly  and  despairingly  down.  Closer  still,  and  we  reached  a 
forest  of  masts.  The  harbour  was  filled  with  them,  and  among 
them  were  ships  from  Norway,  England,  Italy,  and  the  United 
States.  All  were  loading  coffee,  and  we  could  see  scores  of  ne- 
groes carrying  great  bags  of  the  bean  from  the  shore  to  the 
ships.  The  ships  were  anchored  along  a granite  wharf,  and  the 
men  walked  up  on  planks  carrying  the  coffee.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  wharf  were  long  warehouses,  whence  came  the  coffee  to 
the  steamers. 

We  cast  anchor  some  distance  from  the  shore,  and  I arranged 
with  a barefooted  Portuguese  to  carry  my  luggage  from  the  ship 


(487)  SANTOS,  BRAZIL 


THE  BABY  REPUBLIC  OF  BRAZIL 


489 


to  the  customhouse,  thence  to  the  station.  We  rode  in  his  little 
boat  up  through  the  harbour.  The  water  was  like  glass.  It  was  of 
a steel-blue  colour,  and  from  it  came  a smell  like  that  from  a bar- 
rel of  water  grown  sour  by  being  left  out  of  doors  in  the  sun. 
As  we  sailed,  the  boatman  put  his  fingers  to  his  nose  and  re- 
marked: <(  Yellow  fever w;  upon  which  I showed  him  some  sil- 


RAILWAY  UP  THE  COAST  MOUNTAINS  FROM  SANTOS 


ver  and  urged  him  to  hasten.  He  did  so,  and  we  finally  reached 
the  landing-place. 

I spent  some  time  in  Santos  wandering  about  its  narrow 
streets.  Its  buildings  are  like  those  of  a Dutch  town;  they  are 
high,  and  are  painted  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow.  The 
city,  though  it  has  only  25,000  inhabitants,  is  a business  one  and 
does  a vast  trade.  It  is  visited  regularly  by  20  lines  of  ocean 


49°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

steamers;  and  among  others  by  coffee  ships  from  New  York,  for 
the  bulk  of  the  exports  is  of  coffee.  You  see  this  as  you  walk 
through  the  streets:  you  go  by  warehouses  filled  with  coffee; 
there  is  a smell  of  coffee  in  the  air,  and  there  are  many  large 
rooms  in  which  half-naked  negroes  are  shovelling  coffee-beans 
into  bags.  There  are  rooms  in  which  men  and  women  are  sort- 
ing coffee,  singing  at  their  work,  and  there  are  others  still  in 
which  they  are  sewing  up  the  bags  for  shipment. 

There  are  cafes  everywhere.  I entered  one  and  asked  for  a 
cup  of  coffee,  wishing  to  drink  it  in  this  great  coffee  port.  It 
was  brought  me  by  a white-aproned  waiter  and  served  without 
cream  in  a little  porcelain  cup  not  bigger  than  an  egg-cup.  I 
drank  it;  it  was  as  black  as  ink,  as  strong  as  lye,  and  as  hot  as 
liquid-fire,  but  still  very  good  and  exceedingly  cheap,  for  it  cost 
me  only  one  cent. 

From  Santos  I came  to  Sao  Paulo,  the  coffee  metropolis,  being 
carried  over  the  mountains  on  one  of  the  best  railroads  in  Bra- 
zil. The  railroad  has  a monopoly  of  the  coffee  transportation 
from  Sao  Paulo  to  Santos,  and  it  carries  so  much  coffee  that  it 
pays  dividends  sometimes  of  50  per  cent  per  annum.  The  train 
shoots  out  of  Santos  over  the  lowlands  to  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains. It  climbs  these  by  a series  of  cables  moved  by  stationary 
steam-engines  rising  by  three  inclined  planes  to  the  plateau,  about 
3,000  feet  above  Santos.  Here  an  ordinary  locomotive  is  again 
fastened  to  the  train  and  a ride  of  30  or  more  miles  brings  one 
to  Sao  Paulo. 


(492)  A COFFEE  PLANTATION 


CHAPTER  LI 


A VISIT  TO  THE  LARGEST  COFFEE  PLANTATION 

Ax  Estate  which  has  5,000,000  Coffee  Trees  and  is  Forty  Miles  Around 
— How  the  Soil  looks,  and  How  Coffee  Trees  are  grown  — Picking 
Coffee  and  Preparing  it  for  the  Market  — A Ride  over  the  Plan- 
tation on  its  Railroad  — Its  Italian  Colonies,  and  how  they  are 
Managed  — Among  the  Pretty  Coffee-Sorters. 

rom  Sao  Paulo  I took  the  railroad  for  the  interior  and 
went  300  miles  inland  to  see  the  Dumont  coffee  fazenda, 
the  biggest  coffee  plantation  in  the  world.  It  has  about 
5,000,000  trees,  and  annually  produces  enough  coffee  to  give 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  United  States  a daily  cup 
for  a week.  It  is  owned  by  an  English  syndicate,  with  a capital 
of  several  million  dollars,  and  is  operated  after  the  most  modern 
methods.  In  going  to  the  Dumont  fazenda  I passed  through 
some  of  the  richest  coffee  plantations.  I saw  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  acres  of  coffee  trees,  going  by  plantation  after  plantation 
where  the  men  were  at  work  picking  coffee,  and  by  vast  cement 
floors  upon  which  the  coffee-beans  were  drying  in  the  sun. 

The  colour  of  the  best  coffee  lands  is  a bright  red.  It  is  ex- 
actly like  brick  dust,  and  in  this  ride  I found  everything  of  a 
brick-dust  hue.  The  weather  had  been  dry  for  some  time,  and 
the  sun  had  turned  the  earth  to  powder.  It  filled  the  air  with 
red  clouds;  and  the  bushes  and  trees  were  tinged  with  it. 

The  wind  was  blowing  as  I rode  over  the  country,  and  my 
white  collar  soon  acquired  a red  edging,  my  cuffs  became  a 
bright  vermilion,  my  hands  were  coated  red,  and  the  only  thing 
about  me  not  seriously  changed  was  my  hair,  which  my  friends 
indulgently  call  golden,  but  which  those  who  like  me  not  say  is 
of  this  same  coffee-soil  colour  — it  has  a brick-dust  hue.  Even  the 
children  at  the  stations  looked  like  painted  Indians.  Unpleasant 
as  the  soil  is  in  the  shape  of  dust,  it  is  said  to  be  just  the  thing 
for  coffee.  It  lies  in  beds  from  three  to  four  feet  deep  upon  a 
layer  of  gravel,  and  in  it  the  coffee  tree  grows  and  waxes  fat. 

(493) 


494  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  best  plantations  are  on  the  sides  of  the  hills,  at  an  eleva- 
tion of  from  1,000  to  3,000  feet  above  the  sea.  These  are  the 
altitudes  of  the  rolling  plains,  through  which  I have  been  travel- 
ling. They  are  entirely  covered  with  coffee.  We  were  often  for 
hours  in  nothing  but  coffee  plantations,  vast  gardens  of  green 
bushes  shining  out  against  a background  of  red.  Here  the  men 
were  ploughing,  there  they  were  picking,  and  in  other  places 
they  were  hoeing.  The  trees  were  everywhere  clean,  and  most 
of  the  plantations  were  as  well  cared  for  as  a garden. 

Now  we  passed  by  a forest  which  had  just  been  cut  down, 
and  now  by  fields  of  cleared  land,  in  which  the  stumps  were 
still  standing.  In  these  I could  see  the  little  coffee  plants  which 
had  been  set  in  holes  scooped  out  of  the  earth,  the  plants  being 
shaded  with  sticks  from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun.  Later  on,  we 
went  by  great  platforms  of  cement,  upon  which  the  coffee  beans 
were  drying,  and  back  of  them  we  could  see  the  labourer’s  houses, 
red  adobe  huts  with  roofs  of  red  tile.  At  last,  after  three  hun- 
dred miles  of  such  travelling,  I came  to  the  station  of  Rubeirao 
Preto,  and  here  was  met  by  an  engine  which  Mr.  Phillip  Ham- 
mond, the  manager  of  the  Dumont  fazenda,  had  sent  down  to 
take  me  to  the  estate.  I had  letters  to  him  from  the  Secretary 
of  Agriculture  of  Sao  Paulo,  and  was  therefore  entertained  right 
royally  during  the  few  days  of  my  stay. 

Those  who  think  that  coffee  grows  almost  wild  have  little 
idea  of  the  business  of  a great  plantation  like  the  Dumont  enter- 
prise. There  is  not  a bonanza  farm  in  the  United  States,  I ven- 
ture to  say,  that  costs  as  much  annually,  or  one  that  employs 
so  many  hands.  The  estate  itself  comprises  thousands  of  acres. 
It  has  over  13,000  acres  of  coffee  fields  and  2,500  acres  of  pas- 
ture land.  It  is  planting  more  trees  every  year  and  is  kept 
like  a garden.  To  go  round  the  estate  one  would  have  to  travel 
40  miles,  and  more  than  40  miles  of  railroad  track  have  been 
built  upon  it  to  transport  the  coffee. 

The  estate  supports  5,000  people.  It  has  23  colonies,  ranging 
in  size  from  70  families  downward.  It  has  great  stores  to  sup- 
ply its  workmen  with  food.  It  has  a bakery,  a drug  store,  a saw 
mill,  a planing  mill,  and  at  one  time  it  had  a brewery.  It  has 
vast  factories  for  cleaning  coffee  and  preparing  it  for  market,  and 
it  has  offices  in  which  there  are  bookkeepers  taking  account  of 
every  item  of  expense,  so  that  they  can  tell  you  how  much  coffee 


A VISIT  TO  THE  LARGEST  COFFEE  PLANTATION 


495 


each  of  the  5,000,000  trees  is  producing,  and  give  every  item 
connected  with  picking  the  coffee  and  sending  it  to  the  sea- 
ports. 

The  labourers  on  the  estate  are  thoroughly  organized.  Each 
man  has  his  own  work,  the  employes  being  directed  by  adminis- 
trators, each  of  whom  has  charge  of  a block  of  trees,  ranging  up 
to  a million ; these  trees  are  divided  among  families,  each  family 
taking  charge  of  from  3,000  to  4,000  trees,  planting  them  and 
keeping  them  clean.  At  picking-time  all  the  employes  are  set  to 
work  to  gather  the  coffee  berries  and  bring  them  to  the  cars. 
One  man  can  pick  enough  berries  in  a day  to  make  about  50 
pounds  of  coffee.  There  are  also  train  loads  of  coffee  berries 
moving  to  and  from  the  fields  and  the  factories,  and  within  a 
few  weeks  70,000  bags  of  coffee-beans  will  be  shelled  out,  dried, 
and  shipped. 

Obviously,  it  takes  a great  deal  of  work  to  produce  the  bev- 
erage which  forms  the  staple  of  one’s  breakfast.  In  the  first 
place,  the  trees  must  be  sprouted  in  seed-beds,  the  beans  being 
sown  much  as  we  sow  peas.  Only  the  best  coffee-beans  are 
chosen  for  the  purpose.  When  the  coffee  plants  are  about  eigh- 
teen months  old,  they  have  grown  a foot  high.  They  are  then 
taken  up  and  planted  deep  in  the  ground,  being  shielded  with 
leaves  on  sticks.  They  grow  very  fast  when  well  ploughed,  hoed, 
and  kept  clean. 

At  three  or  four  years  of  age  the  coffee  tree  begins  to  bear 
fruit.  Little  red  berries,  the  size  and  colour  of  a cherry,  appear 
close  to  the  branches,  hanging  to  them  much  like  plums.  They 
continue  to  have  fruit  from  this  time  on  for  twenty  or  thirty 
years,  and  some  trees  will  keep  on  producing  for  forty  or  even 
fifty  years.  A good  tree  should  produce  four  pounds  annually, 
and  a well-cared-for  coffee  plantation  should  be  good  for  at  least 
thirty  years. 

The  coffee  begins  to  blossom  in  September,  and  in  April  or 
May  the  berries  are  ripe  and  the  picking  begins.  The  berries 
are  picked  into  baskets,  which  the  pickers  carry  on  their  backs. 
Each  is  paid  so  much  for  the  amount  picked,  and  hundreds  of 
men,  women,  and  children  are  employed. 

This  seems  a lot  of  work  for  such  a little  thing  as  a coffee- 
bean.  Yes,  but  the  preparing  the  bean  for  market  has  as  yet 
hardly  begun.  The  berries,  as  they  come  from  the  trees,  are 


496  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

just  like  dark-red  cherries;  the  coffee-beans  are  the  seeds  in- 
side the  cherries.  Each  large  cherry  has  two  half-round  seeds, 
the  flat  sides  resting  one  against  the  other,  with  a soft  pulp 
about  them.  Others  have  only  one  little  round  seed,  just  like 
the  Mocha  coffee  of  commerce.  The  pulp  must  first  be  taken 
off.  To  do  this,  the  berries  are  thrown  into  a hopper  and  run 
through  cylinders  that  squash  the  pulp  without  injuring  the 
grains.  They  are  thus  reduced  to  a mush  of  pulp  and  coffee- 
seeds.  This  mixture  is  carried  over  a long  copper  cylinder,  which 
is  about  two  feet  in  diameter.  The  cylinder  is  filled  with  holes, 
just  large  enough  for  the  coffee-beans  to  pass  through.  As  the 
mush  falls  on  the  cylinder,  the  beans  go  through  the  holes 
into  it  and  are  carried  into  a canal  of  flowing  water  below  the 
cylinder.  Upon  this  they  float  off  into  receiving  tanks  or  vats. 

Take  up  a handful  of  the  beans  and  look  at  them.  Each,  it 
will  be  seen,  is  covered  with  a soft,  gummy  substance;  it  is  as 
sticky  as  though  it  had  been  painted  with  mucilage.  It  must  be 
washed  again  before  it  is  ready  for  drying;  this  is  done  in  a tank 
in  which  a great  screw  moves  round  and  round  over  the  beans, 
scouring  off  the  gum,  as  it  were,  and  leaving  them  as  white  as 
parchment. 

"But  our  coffee-beans  are  green,”  I hear  some  one  say.  Yes, 
they  are,  and  these  will  be  green  by  and  by.  They  have  two 
shells  on  them  which  must  be  removed  before  they  can  be 
shipped  to  market.  Before  the  shells  can  be  taken  off,  the  coffee 
must  be  perfectly  dry,  and  the  drying  is  quite  a task  of  its  own. 
There  are  on  every  plantation  great  terraces  made  of  floors  of 
cement,  rising  one  above  the  other.  Some  of  the  floors  are  more 
than  an  acre  in  size.  They  are  made  for  drying  the  coffee.  There 
is  no  roof  over  them,  and  the  hot  sun  of  Brazil  beats  down  on 
them  all  day  long.  It  gradually  takes  all  the  moisture  out  of  the 
beans  which  are  stirred  about  with  wooden  rakes,  so  that  all  parts 
are  touched  by  the  sun.  The  men  who  handle  the  rakes  are  in 
their  bare  feet.  It  is  important  that  the  coffee  be  evenly  dried, 
and  it  often  takes  a long  time  to  cure  it.  The  grains  sometimes 
lie  for  two  months  on  the  platforms,  being  gathered  into  piles 
at  night  and  covered  up  to  keep  off  the  dew.  The  men  watch 
also  for  showers,  and  at  such  times  cover  the  coffee. 

After  the  beans  are  dried,  they  are  by  no  means  ready  for 
sale;  each  little  bean  has  now  to  be  skinned.  It  has  upon  it  a thick 


A VISIT  TO  THE  LARGEST  COFFEE  PLANTATION 


497 


white  hide,  known  as  the  parchment  skin,  and  under  this  another 
covering  almost  as  thin  as  a cobweb,  which  is  called  the  silver 
skin.  These  have  to  be  removed  before  the  olive-green  bean 
sold  in  our  stores  is  reached.  The  skinning  is  done  by  expensive 
machines,  some  of  which  cost  as  much  as  $25,000.  In  the  first 
place,  the  coffee  is  run  through  a ventilator,  which  fans  off  the 
rubbish  and  dust.  It  is  next  thrown  into  a great  corrugated 
wheel  of  cast  iron,  which  has  grooves  so  graduated  that  they 
break  the  skin  on  the  coffee  without  hurting  or  scratching  the 
bean.  After  the  skin  is  broken,  the  beans  are  carried  to  a sec- 
ond ventilator,  in  which  the  shells  are  taken  off  like  the  chaff  in 
a threshing-machine.  A fan  blows  off  the  chaff  and  the  beans 
flow  down  through  the  trough  to  the  separator. 

The  beans  are  now  of  a light  olive-green  colour.  They  must 
be  graded,  however,  before  they  are  shipped.  The  little  round 
beans  which  came  from  the  small  berries  on  the  ends  of  the 
stalks  will  go  into  one  grade  and  will  be  sold  in  our  American 
markets  as  Mocha  straight  from  Arabia;  another  size  will  be 
classed  as  Java,  and  the  well-known  Mocha  and  Java  which  one 
mixes  at  home  will  possibly  have  come  from  the  same  stalk. 
Other  kinds  of  grain  will  be  classed  according  to  their  grades, 
and  from  every  lot  five  different  grades  are  put  up. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  sights  on  the  plantation  is  the 
factory  in  which  the  women  sort  the  coffee,  picking  out  the  bad 
beans.  Come  with  me  and  look  at  it.  We  are  in  a vast  room 
filled  with  Italian  girls  of  all  ages.  They  sit  at  long  tables  at 
the  back  of  which  are  boxes  of  green  coffee-seeds.  Just  opposite 
each  girl  is  a little  opening  in  the  box,  out  of  which  she  pulls 
handfuls  of  olive-hued  grains  and  spreads  them  out  on  the  table 
before  her.  She  looks  them  carefully  over,  picks  out  such  as  are 
bad,  and  throws  them  into  a box  at  the  right,  sweeping  at  the 
same  time  the  good  grains  through  a hole  in  the  table,  so  that 
they  fall  into  a bag,  which  is  fastened  beneath,  and  hangs  there 
between  her  knees. 

Some  of  the  girls  are  quite  pretty.  They  have  the  large  eyes 
and  the  bronzed  rosy  faces  of  Neapolitan  peasants.  They  have 
gay  handkerchiefs  tied  about  their  heads,  and  as  you  enter  the 
room  their  great  dark  eyes  look  at  you.  Nearly  all  are  bare- 
footed, and  I noticed  that  some  of  them  dug  their  pink  toes  into 
the  bags  as  they  worked.  As  soon  as  a bag  is  full  it  is  carried 


498  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

away  by  men  to  the  sewers,  who  fasten  it  up  for  shipment.  At 
the  back  of  the  room  are  fanning  and  cleaning  machines,  through 
which  coffee  of  the  various  grades  is  running  in  a steady  stream. 
A noise  like  that  of  a grist  mill  fills  the  room,  and  burning  coffee 
titillates  your  nostrils  with  an  appetizing  odour.  It  comes  from 
the  rear  of  the  building.  Let  us  go  there  and  learn  what  they 
are  roasting.  Outside  we  see  a great  stack  of  the  parchment  hull 
chaff ; this  is  being  used  as  fuel  for  the  engine.  It  is  the  burn- 
ing of  the  coffee-chaff  that  causes  the  smell. 

But  Mr.  Hammond  is  ready  with  his  special  engine  to  take 
us  the  round  of  the  plantation.  It  is  an  American  locomotive, 
we  notice,  made  in  Delaware;  we  jump  on  and  are  carried  for 
miles  through  this  great  coffee-garden.  In  front  and  behind  us, 
as  far  as  one  can  see,  are  long  lines  of  green  bushes.  There 
are  vast  areas  to  the  right  and  the  left,  all  of  coffee.  Look  down 
the  road;  see  how  the  lines  of  bushes  run  on  and  on,  growing 
smaller  and  smaller  until  they  come  together.  Notice  the  bushes 
in  that  field  over  there ! They  are  not  as  high  as  one’s  knee. 
Those  trees  have  only  been  planted  a year,  and  the  others, 
farther  on  in  the  little  holes  with  chips  and  sticks  over  them, 
have  been  there  only  a month. 

How  green  everything  is!  The  coffee-leaves  seem  to  have 
been  varnished.  There  is  no  green  in  nature  more  beautiful, 
and  the  contrast  of  the  background  of  red  soil  throws  the  green 
out,  making  it  still  more  beautiful.  Now  turn  your  back  to  the 
engine  and  look  about  you!  We  are  now  on  a hill,  and  we  can 
see  the  whole  land  spread  out  in  a great  waving  mantle  of 
green,  through  which,  here  and  there,  run  stripes  of  bright  red, 
the  roads.  What  a principality!  Job  would  have  died  of  envy 
had  he  seen  this  plantation. 

Notice  the  little  green  buds  on  that  plant!  They  surround 
the  joints  of  the  branches  like  a necklace  just  over  the  leaves. 
Later  on,  they  will  be  red  berries,  and  later  still  will  be  turned 
into  the  coffee  of  commerce  and  will  be  travelling  over  the  world. 
The  beverage  they  furnish  will  be  partaken  of  on  the  boulevards 
of  Paris  and  sipped  by  the  scandal-mongers  in  the  drawing-rooms 
of  Washington.  Lovers,  it  may  be,  will  whisper  sweet  nothings 
over  it;  statesmen  may  lay  out  their  campaigns  by  it;  and  per- 
haps, in  our  lurid  south,  it  may  take  part  in  one  of  those  angry 
engagements  which  result  in  <(  coffee  and  pistols  for  two. w 


A VISIT  TO  THE  LARGEST  COFFEE  PLANTATION 


499 


Within  the  last  ten  years  great  changes  have  taken  place  in 
coffee-growing  in  Brazil.  Formerly,  everything  was  done  by 
slaves,  who  worked  under  overseers  and  who  put  in  nearly 
fifteen  hours  a day.  The  overseer  called  them  at  four  o’clock 
in  the  morning  and  marched  them  to  the  coffee-fields.  Their 
meals  were  brought  to  them  there,  and  they  were  kept  at  work 
until  about  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening.  Now  that  the  slaves 
are  emancipated,  most  of  them  have  left  the  coffee  regions  and 
Italians  have  been  imported  to  take  their  places.  The  labourers 
on  the  Dumont  fazenda  are  nearly  all  Italians;  I am  told  they 
make  far  better  workmen  than  the  negroes. 


COFFEE  TREE  WITH  BERRIES 


CHAPTER  LII 


MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 

Brazil,  the  chief  Coffee-country  of  the  world  — It  Produces  two- 
thirds  of  all  the  Coffee  used  by  Man — Where  the  Coffee- 
fields  Are,  and  How  the  Product  is  handled  at  Rio  and  Santos  — 
The  Kinds  of  Coffee,  and  why  our  Mocha  and  Java  Coffees  come 
from  Brazil  — Behind  the  Scenes  in  the  Warehouses  — How  the 
Beans  are  Polished  and  Painted  up  for  the  Market — Coffee  De- 
tectives and  Coffee  Thieves. 

night’s  ride  north  by  railroad  has  brought  me  to  Rio  de 
Janeiro,  the  capital  of  Brazil.  Rio  is  the  centre  of  the 
coffee  trade.  It  is  financially  and  industrially,  as  well  as 
politically  the  Brazilian  capital,  and  while  it  does  not  ship  so 
many  bags  of  coffee  as  Santos  ships,  it  furnishes  most  of  the 
money  that  moves  the  crop.  Coffee,  indeed,  is  the  mainstay  of 
Brazil;  it  is  its  chief  export  and  its  chief  money  crop.  Brazil 
produces  more  coffee  than  any  other  country  in  the  world.  From 
its  plantations  come  two-thirds  of  all  the  coffee  consumed.  In 
1895,  total  exports  amounted  to  $180,000,000,  and  of  this 

$140,000,000  came  from  coffee.  The  amount  shipped  is  so  great 
that  the  rise  or  fall  of  a cent  a pound  means  prosperity  or  the 
reverse.  Of  late  years  coffee  has  been  falling;  the  prices  of  to- 
day are  not  more  than  one-third  those  received  in  1893,  and  with 
the  new  plantations  which  will  probably  spring  up  in  Porto 
Rico,  in  Hawaii,  and  in  the  Philippines,  the  price  is  likely  to  go 
still  lower. 

The  United  States  has  for  many  years  been  the  chief  con- 
sumer of  Brazilian  coffee;  we  drink  more  coffee  individually  than 
any  other  nation.  In  1897  we  used  10,000,000  pounds  more  than 
all  Europe,  and  we  are  now  annually  consuming  about  800,000,000 
pounds,  or  more  than  ten  pounds  for  each  man,  woman,  and  child 
among  us.  Within  the  past  ten  years  we  have  spent  $875,000,000 
for  coffee,  or  an  average  of  $87,500,000  a year.  The  bulk 
of  this  money  has  gone  to  Brazil;  some  of  it  has  found  its  way 
(500) 


MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 


5QI 

into  the  pockets  of  the  coffee-planters;  a large  part  has  been 
divided  among  the  shippers  and  dealers;  and  eleven  per  cent  of 
the  export  price  has  been  paid  to  the  government.  Brazil  charges 
a coffee  export  duty  of  eleven  per  cent  per  pound;  this,  of  course, 
is  paid  by  the  consumer,  and  such  of  our  people  as  engage  in 
coffee-raising  will  have  the  advantage  of  eleven  per  cent  over 
Brazil  to  start  with,  for  they  will,  of  course,  not  have  to  pay  duty. 
Some  years  ago  there  was  talk  of  taxing  coffee,  but  our  con- 
gressional demagogues  objected  to  taxing  the  poor  man’s  luxuries, 
and  coffee  was  admitted  nominally  free.  It  was  not  allowed  to 
be  free,  however,  for  Brazil  at  once  put  on  an  extra  export  duty 
and  the  poor  man’s  luxury  cost  him  just  the  same.  The  only 
difference  was  that  the  Brazilian  government  got  the  money,  and 
not  Uncle  Sam. 


SANTOS,  BRAZIL’S  GREAT  COFFEE  PORT 


Coffee  is  raised  in  nearly  every  one  of  the  Brazilian  States. 
The  country  produced  10,000,000  bags  last  year,  and  it  is  still 
setting  out  new  plantations.  I have  already  described  my  travels 
through  Sao  Paulo,  the  richest  coffee-raising  region  in  the  world. 
The  States  north  of  Sao  Paulo  are  rich  coffee  states,  and  Rio 
de  Janeiro,  back  of  the  capital,  is  one  of  the  chief  coffee-centers. 

Brazilian  coffee  is  chiefly  known  in  the  United  States  as  Rio 
and  Santos  coffee.  The  names  come  from  the  ports  from  which 
the  coffee  is  shipped.  The  Santos  coffee  is  grown  almost  entirely 
in  south  central  Brazil ; it  is  carried  on  the  railroads  to  Santos 
and  exported  from  there.  It  comes  from  a cooler  climate  than 
does  the  coffee  raised  farther  north,  and  is  generally  considered 
to  have  a milder  and  finer  flavour.  It  is  estimated  that  the 
S.  A.— 32 


502  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

United  States  take  about  30  per  cent  of  the  Santos  crop  and 
about  70  per  cent  of  all  shipped  from  Rio,  so  that  the  bulk  of 
our  coffee  is  Rio  coffee. 

At  both  Rio  de  Janeiro  and  Santos  the  great  coffee-houses  of 
the  United  States  have  their  agents  who  buy  of  the  dealers  and 
ship  direct  to  their  houses  in  New  York,  Baltimore,  and  Chicago. 
They  have  large  establishments  for  preparing  coffee  for  ship- 
ment, and  some  of  the  smartest  coffee-merchants  of  the  United 
States  are  here  watching  the  markets  and  buying  the  product  by 
the  thousands  of  bags.  Coffee  is  handled  in  different  ways  at 
the  two  great  ports.  While  I was  in  Santos  I spent  some  time 
among  the  dealers  and  shippers.  There  I found  that  the  coffee 

is  put  up  in  bags,  of  132  pounds  each,  and  of  this  bulk  it  is 

sold  to  the  exporters.  The  buyers  in  Santos  deal  directly  with 
the  planters’  agents,  taking  the  coffee  in  lots.  In  Rio  the  coffee 
first  comes  to  commission  men, — who  in  turn  dispose  of  it  to 
the  wholesale  dealers,  who  then  grade  and  bag  it  for  the  ex- 
porter. In  this  way  the  coffee  has  passed  through  three  hands 
before  it  arrives  at  New  York. 

Since  the  remarkable  fall  in  the  price  of  coffee,  the  chief, 
exporters  have  sent  agents  out  among  the  planters  and  are  now 
buying  the  coffee  direct.  Hitherto  the  consumer  has  had  to  pay 
half  a dozen  or  more  profits  on  every  pound  of  coffee;  in  the 

first  place,  he  has  had  to  support  the  planter,  then  the  commis- 

sion merchant  in  Rio,  then  the  wholesale  dealer  in  Rio,  and  the 
local  agent  of  the  United  States.  He  has  had  to  pay  the  cost 
of  shipment  to  New  York,  the  wholesale  dealer  or  roaster  there, 
the  commercial  drummer,  the  railroads,  and  lastly  his  retail 
dealer  at  home.  With  all  these  charges  he  is  able  to  buy  coffee 
for  15  cts.  and  even  less  per  pound,  the  same  coffee  costing  here 
not  more  than  6 cts.,  and  delivered  in  New  York  6J  cts.  per 
pound. 

If  the  consumer  be  particular  about  his  coffee,  he  will  pay 
35  cts.  or  40  cts.  for  some  of  this  same  coffee  which  here  sells 
for  a trifle  over  the  sums  above  mentioned,  the  only  difference 
being  that  the  beans  are  of  a little  different  shape  or  of  larger 
size,  and  that  they  have  been  graded  into  certain  so-called  well- 
known  varieties. 

I have  already  mentioned  the  Mocha  and  Java  coffee  of  Bra- 
zil. A large  part  of  the  Mocha  used  in  the  United  States  is 


MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 


5°3 

grown  in  Brazil.  Indeed,  but  little  genuine  Mocha  coffee  is  sold 
in  our  markets.  The  Mocha  fields  of  Arabia  are  so  small  that 
but  few  of  the  berries  are  sent  outside  Mohammedan  countries. 
Mr  W.  G.  Palgrave,  the  well-known  Oriental  traveller,  says  that 
two-thirds  of  the  Mocha  crop  is  consumed  in  Arabia,  Syria,  and 
Egypt,  and  almost  all  of  the  remainder  is  taken  by  the  Turks. 
The  coffee  is  sifted  over,  grain  by  grain,  and  the  best  taken  out 
for  the  Mohammedans. 

The  Rio  coffee  sold  as  Mocha  is  largely  made  up  of  the  little 
round  beans  which  are  found  on  nearly  every  tree.  In  many 


PICKING  COFFEE 

places  they  grow  near  the  end  of  the  stalk  and  are  often  imper- 
fect berries,  a coffee  cherry  containing  one  instead  of  two  beans. 
They  are  known  as  pea-berries  by  some  of  the  dealers.  There 
^is  another  class  of  beans  which  are  flat.  Some  of  these  are  very 
much  like  Java  coffee  and  are  often  sold  as  such,  so  that  many  a 
man  who  smacks  his  lips  over  what  he  considers  real  Mocha  and 
Java  is  actually  drinking  7-cent  Rio,  although  he  has  paid  35 
cents  a pound  for  it.  This  statement,  it  may  be,  will  be  denied 
by  the  grocers.  They  will  likely  tell  you  that  they  can  tell 
Mocha  and  Java  by  the  smell,  or  by  the  colour  of  the  grain. 


5°4  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Don’t  believe  them!  The  coffee  as  it  comes  from  the  plantation 
is  often  far  different  from  that  which  is  exported  on  the  ships. 
I have  visited,  here  in  Rio,  enormous  establishments  that  make  a 
business  of  painting  and  polishing  coffee  to  suit  the  different 
markets.  In  South  Africa,  for  example,  the  people  want  black 
coffee-beans;  it  seems  the  coffee  they  have  been  buying  is  of 
that  colour.  The  Brazilian  beans  are  naturally  olive  green;  they 
are  turned  into  a great  mill  and  rolled  round  and  round  in  con- 
tact with  a coloured  powder  which  paints  them  as  black  as  any 
coffee  that  can  be  grown  in  Africa.  Other  grades  are  given  a 
tinge  of  yellow,  and  others  still  are  varnished  in  different  shades 
of  green.  I should  suppose  that  some  of  the  colouring  matter  is 
unhealthful,  for  the  men  use  gloves  when  they  handle  it.  In  one 
Portuguese  house,  I saw  about  4,000,000  pounds  of  coffee  being 
coloured  for  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  in  another  they  were 
polishing  coffee  for  the  Argentine  market.  This  is  no  fiction,  for 
I saw  it  myself,  although  I am  told  that  the  coffee  sent  to  the 
United  States  goes  there  in  its  natural  colour. 

The  big  coffee  factories  are  interesting  places.  Some  of  them 
have  as  much  machinery  as  a Minneapolis  flour-mill.  You  walk 
under  a network  of  moving  belts,  through  air  mixed  with  coffee 
dust,  and  go  from  room  to  room  filled  with  machines  for  dressing 
the  beans  to  suit  the  various  markets.  Each  market  seems  to 
have  its  own  wants;  the  Germans,  for  instance,  demand  that  the 
husks  be  on  the  beans  when  they  arrive  at  Hamburg.  They 
prefer  to  do  the  shelling  themselves;  they  do  the  polishing  of 
the  beans,  and  the  coffee  so  prepared  is  sold  as  washed  coffee, 
bringing  a much  higher  price. 

There  are  other  peoples  who  want  their  coffee  polished.  It  is 
shined  up  as  you  shine  silver,  being  so  delicately  brushed  that  the 
grains  are  not  injured.  The  coffee  that  goes  to  the  United 
States  is  sold  as  it  comes  from  the  plantations.  It  is  passed 
through  the  separators  and  graded,  but  so  far,  I believe,  not  pol- 
ished or  sold  in  any  other  than  its  natural  colour.  A great  deal 
of  our  coffee  is  bought  by  the  roasting  companies.  It  is  shipped 
directly  to  roasting  mills  in  New  York  and  Chicago,  where  it  is 
browned  and  ground  and  put  up  in  the  fancy  one-pound  pack- 
ages sold  by  the  grocers. 

One  of  the  busiest  places  in  South  America  is  the  coffee- 
exporting section  of  Rio  de  Janeiro.  There  are  huge  warehouses 


MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 


5°5 


near  the  wharves  which  are  filled  with  coffee,  and  into  which 
coffee  is  being  brought  by  thousands  of  bags.  The  streets  of 
this  section  are  narrow  and  dirty;  'they  are  filled  with  waggons 
and  cars  loaded  with  coffee.  There  are  scores  of  half-naked 
men  trotting  from  the  cars  to  the  warehouses  with  bags  on  their 
heads,  and  scores  of  negro  women  down  on  their  knees  sweeping 
up  the  coffee  out  of  the  cobblestones,  where  it  has  dropped,  that 
they  may  wash  it  and  sell  it  again.  Each  of  the  street-cleaners 
has  a sieve,  in  which  she  puts  the  beans  as  she  picks  them  up, 


LOADING  COFFEE— PORT  OF  SANTOS 

shaking  out  the  dirt  as  she  works.  I am  told  that  many  of  the 
women  make  a good  living  by  gathering  these  stray  coffee-beans. 

Stop  a minute  and  watch  the  men  as  they  unload  the  wag- 
gons! Every  bag  is  tested  before  it  is  taken  into  the  warehouse. 
The  tester  has  a little  tin  pipe  about  as  large  around  as  a broom- 
stick, with  a sharp  point  on  the  end;  this  he  jabs  into  a bag  and 
it  brings  out  a handful  of  coffee.  A glance  at  the  beans  tells 
him  whether  they  are  according  to  sample,  and  if  not,  the  re- 
mainder of  the  load  is  carefully  watched. 

But  let  us  follow  the  coffee  into  the  warehouse.  The  car- 
load which  is  now  being  handled  has  to  be  repacked  before  it  is 


506  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

ready  for  shipping.  We  walk  through  long  aisles,  walled  on 
each  side  with  coffee-bags,  and  come  into  a hall  where  the  floor 
is  covered  with  piles  of  green  coffee-beans.  At  each  pile  are  a 
dozen  half-naked  negroes  in  their  bare  feet.  They  are  scooping 
up  the  coffee  into  bowls,  much  like  bread  bowls,  and  pouring  it 
from  them  into  the  bags.  We  hear  the  scratch,  scratch,  scratch 
of  the  bowls  as  they  touch  the  floor,  varied  by  the  light  laughter 
of  the  people  at  work.  Now  the  men  burst  out  in  a song,  keep- 
ing time  with  their  scoops  as  they  sing.  As  soon  as  a bag  is 
filled,  it  is  drawn  off  to  a pair  of  scales  to  be  weighed.  It  is 
next  handed  over  to  women,  who  sew  up  its  mouth,  leaving 
enough  vacant  space  at  the  top  that  it  may  pack  well  in  the 
steamer.  In  other  factories  the  bagging  is  done  by  machinery, 
and  all  the  work  goes  on  in  a business-like  way. 

Each  of  the  American  establishments  of  Rio  annually  handles 
vast  amounts  of  coffee.  Its  manager  must  be  a sharp  trader  and 
a man  of  business  ability;  he  must  be  a good  judge  of  coffee, 
and  must  know  how  to  take  advantage  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  the 
market.  Each  establishment  has  its  coffee-expert,  who  can  tell 
instantly  by  eye  and  nose  just  what  the  coffee  is  worth.  His 
judgment  is  usually  passed  without  grinding  or  burning  the  ber- 
ries. Samples  of  about  a pint  each  are  spread  out  on  blue  paper, 
and  the  coffee-expert  puts  his  price  on  each  grade  by  looking  at, 
handling,  and  smelling  the  samples. 

The  coffee  of  Rio  is  chiefly  shipped  from  the  coffee-wharves. 
They  are  not  far  from  the  warehouses,  and  the  scenes  about  them 
are  among  the  most  interesting  in  Brazil.  Come  with  me  and 
look  at  them ! We  jump  upon  a car,  containing  three  tons  of 
coffee;  it  is  hauled  by  two  mules,  who  drag  it  over  the  street 
railroad,  through  one  narrow  alley  after  another,  down  to  the  bay. 
We  stop  at  the  wharves,  where  a gang  of  negroes  stands  ready 
to  take  in  the  bags;  they  back  themselves  up  against  the  cars 
and  balance  the  great  sacks  on  their  heads.  They  carry  them  in 
on  the  trot,  and  we  hear  the  thud,  thud,  thud  of  their  bare  feet 
as  they  go  over  the  floor.  They  run,  for  they  are  paid  by  the 
piece,  and  not  by  the  day.  Each  man  gets  a cent  and  a-half  for 
every  bag  he  brings  in,  and  the  best  of  the  workmen  make  from 
$35  t°  $4°  Per  month,  which  is  considered  high  wages  here. 

What  a lot  of  policemen  there  are  everywhere!  At  the 
ends  of  the  wharves  there  are  policemen  in  uniform;  a custom- 


MORE  ABOUT  COFFEE 


5°7 


house  officer  is  always  on  hand  to  see  that  nothing  goes  on  or 
off  the  ship  without  paying  duty;  and  there  are  besides  many 
private  detectives.  A close  watch  has  to  be  kept  to  guard  against 
stealing,  for  the  wharves  are  great  places  for  thieves.  The  de- 
tectives look  below  the  wharves,  as  well  as  above  them,  for  some- 
times thieves  come  in  boats  under  the  wooden  floors  and  stop 
below  one  of  the  great  piles  of  bags.  With  an  auger  they  make 
a hole  through  the  floor,  then  a piercer  or  pipe  is  thrust  up 
through  the  hole  and  into  a bag,  so  that  the  coffee  pours  down 
through  the  pipe  in  a stream  to  the  boat.  In  a short  time  half 
a dozen  bags  can  thus  be  emptied  and  no  one  be  the  wiser,  un- 
less the  detectives  spy  the  men  under  the  wharves. 

Stealing  is  also  done  by  the  negroes  who  unload  the  coffee. 
They  come  to  their  work  with  piercers  in  their  sleeves.  By  a 
dexterous  thrust  they  drive  the  piercer  into  a bag  as  they  are 
carrying  it  in  on  their  heads  and  allow  some  of  the  coffee  to  roll 
down  their  sleeves  to  their  waists.  This  they  do  with  one  bag 
after  another,  as  they  readily  can  during  the  day,  and,  on  the 
pretence  of  getting  a drink,  go  off  now  and  then  to  secrete  their 
stealings.  This  mode  of  stealing  is  well  known,  and  the  men  are 
consequently  carefully  watched.  Some  of  them  work  half-naked, 
while  others  have  their  sleeves  rolled  up  to  their  shoulders. 
Thieves  are  at  once  arrested,  and  the  factors  pay  large  sums  to 
detectives  who  watch  out  for  pilferers. 


CHAPTER  LIII 


IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 

The  largest  Portuguese  city  in  the  world  — A Look  at  the  Harbour  of 
Rio,  and  a Visit  to  its  Botanical  Gardens  — A Walk  on  the  Ouvi- 
dor  — Strange  Street  Scenes  — Auctions  and  Lotteries — A Visit 
to  the  Markets  — Life  in  the  Restaurants  and  Cafes  — What  Good 
Coffee  is  — A Nervous  Nation,  always  on  the  Twitch. 

io  de  Janeiro  is  next  to  Buenos  Aires  the  largest  city  in 
South  America.  It  has  700,000  inhabitants,  while  Buenos 
Aires  claims  100,000  more.  Buenos  Aires  is  by  far  the 
largest  Spanish-speaking  city  in  the  world:  Rio  de  Janeiro  is  the 
largest  city  in  which  the  people  speak  Portuguese.  It  has  more 
people  than  all  the  cities  of  Portugal  combined,  and  the  country 
it  governs  contains  three  times  as  many  Portuguese  as  there  are 
in  Portugal  itself.  It  is  the  capital  of  Brazil,  the  metropolis  of 
half  the  land  and  half  the  people  of  the  South  American  conti- 
nent; it  is,  moreover,  the  chief  financial  and  industrial  city  of 
what  is  now  the  greatest  undeveloped  industrial  empire  in  the 
world. 

We  Americans  go  to  Europe  by  the  hundred-thousand  every 
year  to  gratify  our  love  of  strange  sights  and  beautiful  scenes. 
We  leap  over  the  Atlantic,  one  after  the  other,  like  a flock  of 
sheep  following  their  leader  over  a fence,  never  turning  aside  to 
see  if  there  are  not  better  pastures  or  more  agreeable  fields 
nearer  home.  The  result  is  that  we  miss  the  wonders  of  our 
own  country  and  continent.  South  America  is  far  stranger  than 
Europe,  and  it  has  scenery  that  will  vie  with  any  on  earth. 

Take  Rio  de  Janeiro,  for  example;  it  is  one  of  the  most  pic- 
turesque of  cities.  It  lies  on  a beautiful  bay,  at  the  foot  of 
great  mountains,  which  rise  like  a wall  with  their  tops  in  the 
clouds  behind  it.  These  mountains,  which  are  covered  with  a 
tropical  vegetation  from  base  to  summit,  are  of  curious  shapes, 
one  being  a sugar  loaf,  1,300  feet  high;  another  a hunchback; 
(508) 


(509)  BAMBOO  GROVES,  BOTANIC  GARDENS 


IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 


5 1 1 


while  others  look  like  great  forts  and  massive  battlements.  I 
have  seen  the  Bay  of  Naples  and  the  Golden  Horn  at  Constanti- 
nople, but  the  harbour  of  Rio  surpasses  anything  on  the  Medi- 
terranean or  the  Bosphorus.  Shaped  like  a pear,  it  is  ioo  miles 
in  circumference,  and  almost  everywhere  more  than  6o  feet  deep. 
All  the  ships  of  all  the  seas  could  anchor  within  it  and  have 
room  to  spare.  It  is  dotted  with  islands,  upon  some  of  which 
fine  buildings  have  been  constructed,  so  that  they  apparently  float 
upon  the  water. 

Rio  itself  is  full  of  strange  things.  The  average  traveller, 
scared  by  the  ghost  of  yellow  fever,  comes  to  it,  his  brain  throb- 
bing with  quinine,  and  with  the  film  of  fear  over  his  eyes.  He 
walks  through  the  streets  with  a smelling-bottle  under  his  nose, 
and  shoots  in  and  out  of  the  town  without  knowing  its  beauties. 
To  me  Rio’s  streets  are  pictures.  I wander  in  and  out  of  nar- 
row lanes  as  crooked  as  the  cow-paths  of  Boston.  I see  houses, 
which  are  centuries  old,  whose  foundations  were  laid  before 
Boston  came  into  existence.  I find  beautiful  parks,  clean  and 
well  kept,  and  in  them  the  most  royal  vegetation  out  of  Para- 
dise. There  are  bamboos  here  which  are  50  feet  high,  whose 
feathery  arms  interlock  and  make  regal  avenues  in  which  you 
are  shielded  from  the  heat  of  the  sun.  There  are  flowers  grow- 
ing wild  which  we  raise  in  our  hothouses,  and  there  are  royal 
palms  whose  branches  wave  in  the  winds  more  than  150  feet 
above  the  ground. 

Rio  is  the  home  of  the  royal  palm;  you  see  it  all  over  the 
city.  The  trees  are  as  round  and  straight  and  smooth  as  the 
most  beautiful  column  ever  chipped  by  a sculptor.  They  rise  in 
symmetrical  shafts  of  silver  gray  from  100  to  150  feet  without  a 
branch,  and  end  at  last  in  a canopy  of  beautiful  green  fern-like 
leaves.  Some  of  the  residences  have  rows  of  royal  palms  at  the 
entrances  to  their  gardens.  They  do  not  need  marble  columns, 
for  nature  furnishes  these  trees  in  their  place. 

One  of  the  finest  avenues  of  palms  is  in  the  botanical  gar- 
dens, but  there  are  other  parks,  of  which  you  seldom  hear,  that 
have  trees  quite  as  fine.  The  other  day  I passed  through  a street 
in  the  heart  of  Rio  in  which  there  were  four  rows  of  these  lofty 
trees.  The  grove  was  at  least  a mile  long,  and  each  palm  was 
on  an  average  100  feet  high.  It  was  the  most  wonderful  evi- 
dence of  the  God-like  in  nature  I have  ever  seen. 


5 1 2 


SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


The  city  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  covers  about  9 square  miles;  it  lies 
on  a low  plain  between  the  mountains,  and  the  harbour  extends 
back  to  and  for  some  distance  up  the  hills.  The  streets  go  up  and 
down,  cross  one  another  at  all  sorts  of  angles,  making  blocks 
of  as  many  different  shapes  as  those  in  Washington.  The  old 
part  of  the  city  is  very  narrow  and  quaint,  some  of  the  streets 
near  the  wharves  being  so  low  that  they  are  flooded  by  every 
rain  that  falls.  In  this  quarter  are  the  slums  of  the  town,  where 
yellow  fever  is  rampant  in  summer,  and  where  the  stranger  almost 


THE  BAY  OF  RIO 


takes  his  life  in  his  hands  when  he  goes  through.  Large  families 
are  to  be  found  living  in  one  room,  and  everything  is  squalid  and 
dirty.  This  part  of  Rio  is  so  badly  arranged  as  to  sanitary  mat- 
ters that  the  very  stones  breathe  miasma.  The  sun  never  gets  a 
fair  chance  at  the  streets,  for  they  are  so  narrow  that  the  street- 
cars almost  graze  the  sidewalk.  The  car-drivers  are  no  respect- 
ers of  person^,  although  I doubt  that  the  numerous  one-legged 
men  of  Rio  have  all  been  made  so,  as  some  claim,  by  losing  their 
legs  by  the  tram-cars. 


PALM  ALLEY,  BOTANIC  GARDENS 


(513) 


IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 


5r5 

A little  back  of  the  slums  is  a vast  quarter  in  which  most  of 
the  business  of  Rio  is  done.  This  is  also  an  old  part  of  the  city; 
some  of  the  houses  are  moss-grown,  and  almost  all  are  quaint  and 
picturesque.  Here  are  the  chief  clubs,  the  famed  restaurants, 
and  the  most  attractive  shops.  It  is  here  you  find  the  Rua  do 
Ouvidor,  the  chief  shopping  street,  the  gossiping-place,  the  Rialto 
of  the  Brazilian  capital.  It  has  the  best  stores;  it  has  the  great 
newspapers,  and  the  best  of  everything  that  the  Brazilians  think 
good.  Here  are  thousands  of  men  and  boys  who  come  for  noth- 
ing else  than  to  shake  hands  and  talk,  to  see  and  to  be  seen.  It 
is  on  the  Ouvidor  that  the  politician  holds  his  reception.  Here 
the  candidate  comes  to  feel  the  pulse  of  the  people,  and  here 
revolutions  and  uprisings  are  hatched.  I was  walking  down  the 
Rua  do  Ouvidor  the  other  day  with  our  Minister  to  Brazil;  we 
were  on  our  way  to  visit  the  houses  of  congress,  and  I urged 
the  minister  to  hurry,  fearing  that  we  might  be  too  late.  The 
minister  replied: 

((  There  is  no  danger.  We  are  in  plenty  of  time,  and  I am 
sure  congress  is  still  sitting. ” 

(<  How  can  you  tell  ? ” asked  I.  <(  Where  is  the  building  ? Does 
the  Brazilian  flag  float  from  it  as  our  flag  floats  from  the  capitol 
when  the  houses  are  sitting  ? ” 

(<  Oh,  no,”  replied  the  minister;  <(you  can’t  see  the  houses  of 
congress  from  here.  They  are  more  than  a mile  away  in  another 
part  of  the  city,  but  I know  that  congress  has  not  yet  adjourned 
because  there  are  so  few  silk  hats  on  the  Ouvidor.  Every  sena- 
tor and  deputy  wears  a tall  hat,  and  all  rush  for  the  Ouvidor  as 
soon  as  the  session  is  over.” 

There  are  things  on  the  Ouvidor,  however,  which  are  quite  as 
interesting  as  the  politicians.  The  streets  are  filled  with  strange 
characters.  At  times  you  imagine  yourself  in  Naples;  at  others 
in  Paris,  and  again  in  the  Moski  at  Cairo.  The  Ouvidor  is  as 
narrow  as  the  Moski;  it  is  indeed  so  narrow  that  by  law  no  ani- 
mal or  wheeled  vehicle  is  allowed  to  enter  it.  It  is  lined  with 
one,  two,  and  three-story  houses,  the  walls  of  which  are  painted 
white,  blue,  brown,  pink,  yellow,  and  all  imaginable  colours.  The 
roofs  are  so  irregular  that  they  cut  the  sky-line,  looking  like  the 
ragged  edge  of  an  old  saw.  The  houses  on  the  opposite  sides  of 
the  street  lean  toward  each  other,  as  in  some  of  the  old  cities  of 
Germany. 


5 1 6 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Every  building  has  a flag-pole  extending  out  so  far  from  its 
second-story  windows  and  at  such  an  angle,  that  those  on  the 
opposite  sides  of  the  street  almost  touch  in  the  centre ; they  form 
a very  thicket  of  poles  and  make  a canopy  over  the  crowd  be- 
low. Between  the  poles,  from  building  to  building,  are  arches 
of  iron  gas-pipes  running  from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the 
other.  These  are  used  to  illuminate  the  Ouvidor  on  feast-days, 
for  the  Brazilians  are  fond  of  displays  of  flags  and  illuminations, 
and  they  celebrate  continually. 

It  is  under  this  canopy  that  we  move  through  the  Ouvidor 
jostled  by  a crowd  composed  of  all  nations.  There  are  Italians, 
Portuguese,  Spaniards,  French,  Brazilians,  and  English.  There 
are  swells  wearing  silk  hats  and  long  coats,  and  there  are  half- 
naked  negroes,  with  loads  on  their  heads.  There  are  lottery 
peddlers  on  every  street  corner.  They  pester  us  offering  tickets 
wherever  we  stop,  and  if  we  enter  a restaurant  they  will  follow 
us  there  and  thrust  their  tickets  into  our  faces.  The  Brazilians 
are  a nation  of  gamblers.  The  country  is  honeycombed  with 
lotteries,  and  everyone  bets  on  something  or  other. 

Among  the  curious  sights  of  the  street  are  the  hucksters. 
There  come  two  men  each  with  a baby-crib  on  his  head.  The 
crib  is  lined  with  a red  flannel  blanket,  and  as  we  look  we  listen 
for  the  squall  of  the  infant  within.  As  the  men  come  closer  we 
see  that  the  cribs  hold  bread,  and  not  babies.  Each  contains  many 
small  loaves,  and  the  man  goes  with  his  wares  from  block  to 
block,  carrying  a trestle  with  him,  upon  which  he  places  the 
bread-crib  while  he  waits  for  customers.  Chickens  are  peddled 
in  much  the  same  way.  A score  of  fowls  are  put  in  a wicker 
crate  and  the  huckster  walks  from  house  to  house  with  the  crate 
on  his  head,  the  chickens  crowing  and  fighting  as  he  goes  through 
the  streets. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  stores.  The  Ouvidor  has  fine  show 
windows;  walking  through  it  is  like  passing  through  a museum. 
Here  is  a jewellery  establishment;  what  a lot  of  diamonds  and 
precious  stones  are  displayed ! Brazil  is  one  of  the  best  diamond 
markets  in  the  world;  the  people  are  said  to  care  more  for  their 
dress  than  their  stomachs.  You  can  see  this  better  by  looking  at 
the  tailor  shops  and  millinery  stores.  The  styles  come  from  Paris, 
and  the  goods  are  marked  with  such  prices  that  cold  chills  run 
down  your  spine  as  you  look.  Think  of  paying  10,000  and  20,000 


IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 


5 1 7 


a yard  for  silks,  and  of  common  dresses  marked  2,000,  3,000,  and 
4,000  per  yard.  What  can  the  figures  mean?  If  they  mean  cents 
they  would  bankrupt  one  to  buy  any  of  them.  Don’t  be  alarmed, 
however;  they  are  not  cents  or  dollars.  They  are  Brazilian  reis 


A RIO  NEGRESS 

of  which  one  thousand  are  worth  fifteen  cents  of  our  money, 
so  that  you  get  seven  thousand  reis  for  a dollar.  I changed 
two  hundred  gold  dollars  at  the  bank  and  received  in  exchange 
more  than  a million  and  a quarter  reis.  This  seems  to  be  an 
enormous  amount,  but  at  my  present  rate  of  expenses  the  sum 
S.  A.— 33 


5 1 8 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

will  not  last  me  three  weeks.  The  fact  that  the  goods  are 
marked  is  no  index  of  how  they  are  sold.  Everything  goes  by 
dicker,  and  the  wise  buyer  always  offers  less  than  is  asked.  A 
large  part  of  the  business  is  done  by  auction.  I found  it  the 
same  in  Argentina.  There  is  scarcely  a street  in  Buenos  Aires 
or  Rio  de  Janeiro  which  has  not  several  auction  establishments. 
Everything,  even  drugs,  is  sold  at  auction;  you  can  bid  on  all 
sorts  of  articles  from  a pill  to  a palace,  and  from  a plant  to  a 
plantation. 

The  Rio  markets  are  not  far  from  the  Ouvidor.  They  are 
right  on  the  bay,  so  that  the  fish  are  brought  in  boats  to  the 
stone  wharves  and  there  sold  in  lots.  Here  the  hucksters  come 
with  their  baskets  for  the  supplies  which  they  peddle  about  from 
house  to  house ; from  here  are  also  taken  the  fish  that  supply 
the  stalls  in  the  markets.  Most  of  the  peddling  is  done  by  Ital- 
ians, who  carry  fish  and  vegetables  in  baskets  hung  at  the  ends 
of  poles  that  rest  on  their  shoulders. 

Let  us  go  into  the  markets;  they  are  housed  in  long  build- 
ings back  from  the  water.  We  find  them  filled  with  all  kinds 
of  fruits,  vegetables,  and  meats.  There  are  tons  of  onions,  car- 
loads of  tomatoes,  and  peppers  of  all  kinds,  from  the  big  green 
sort  we  use  for  pickles  to  chillis,  little  red  pills  of  a fiery  nature 
that  will  take  the  skin  from  your  stomach  and  tongue. 

How  queerly  they  sell  things  here  ! Onions  are  put  up  in 
strings  about  two  yards  long,  the  stems  of  the  onions  being  in- 
terwoven with  straw.  What  fine  onions  they  are!  Those  over 
there  are  as  big  as  your  fist;  they  come  from  Portugal,  and  if 
you  ask  you  will  find  that  great  quantities  of  things  are  im- 
ported. Grapes  are  brought  by  the  ship-load  from  Portugal. 
They  bring  from  thirty  cents  to  three  dollars  per  pound,  accord- 
ing to  quality  and  the  state  of  the  market.  There  are  besides 
fine  apples  from  Spain,  carefully  wrapped  in  paper,  and  bring 
from  sixty  to  ninety  cents  a dozen.  We  wonder  at  the  extent 
of  this  importation,  for  Brazil,  if  she  were  so  minded,  could  raise 
everything  for  herself.  She  has  an  excellent  soil  and  her  cli- 
mate is  so  varied,  according  to  altitudes,  that  she  can  produce 
almost  all  varieties  of  fruits  and  vegetables. 

Meat  is  sold  by  the  kilogram.  It  is  cheap,  steak  bringing 
about  eight  cents  a pound.  It  surprises  one  to  note  that  dried 
meat  brings  more  than  fresh  meat.  It  is  worth  ten  cents  a 


IN  RIO  DE  JANEIRO 


5l9 

pound,  and  is  the  food  in  general  use  among  the  common  people 
and  indeed  among  all  classes.  It  is  brought  by  the  shipload  to 
Rio  de  Janeiro  from  Argentina  and  Uruguay,  being  corded  up  in 
the  stores  as  we  cord  up  hides.  The  meat  is  sold  in  flat  sheets, 
each  about  one  or  two  inches  thick.  It  has  a strong  smell  and 
is  somewhat  salty.  When  sold  it  is  cut  up  in  strips  and  weighed 
out  by  the  kilo.  Another  high-priced  meat  is  fat  pork.  This  is 
stripped  from  the  hogs,  salted  and  done  up  in  rolls  of  about  a 
foot  in  diameter  and  two  feet  in  length.  Slices  from  the  roll  are 
cut  off  for  each  customer,  according  to  order.  The  fat  is  used 
for  cooking  with  beans,  which  with  the  came  secca,  oj:  jerked  meat, 
form  a part  of  almost  every  Brazilian  meal. 

There  are  restaurants  and  cafes  near  the  market;  indeed, 
there  are  cafes  everywhere  in  Rio.  Brazilians  drink  coffee  as 
the  Germans  drink  beer;  they  drink  so  much  that  it  gets  into 
their  complexions,  and  every  other  man  you  meet  is  coffee-coloured. 
Some  are  jet  black,  some  are  brown  and  some  sallow,  but  all  are 
darker  than  nature  made  them.  The  usual  price  for  a cup  of 
coffee  is  a cent  and  a-half,  and  for  this  you  get  coffee  fit  for  a 
king.  It  is  freshly  made,  and  so  strong  that  it  stirs  your  nerves 
like  a cocktail.  According  to  a naughty  Brazilian  proverb,  good 
coffee  should  be  (<  as  strong  as  the  devil,  as  black  as  ink,  as  hot 
as  hell,  and  as  sweet  as  love.”  I have  not  had  a great  deal  of 
experience  with  hell  and  the  devil,  but  from  what  I have  heard 
of  them,  I imagine  Brazilian  coffee  is  like  them  in  these  particu- 
lars. It  is  perfectly  black  and  is  poured  from  the  stove  directly 
into  the  cups.  The  usual  cup  is  about  as  large  as  an  egg-cup, 
and  the  black  fluid  is  of  the  consistency  of  Vermont  maple  syrup 
as  thinned  by  our  dear  New  Englanders  for  the  market.  As  to 
sweetness,  this  is  produced  by  half-filling  the  cup  with  cane- 
sugar,  which  is  sweeter  than  the  beet  sugar  we  buy  in  the 
lump. 

Drinking  such  coffee  has  a serious  effect  on  the  nerves,  and  as 
the  Brazilians  drink  all  day  long  they  are  among  the  most  nervous 
of  people.  They  are  never  still;  if  you  see  a man  in  a cafe 
with  his  feet  on  the  floor,  nine  times  out  of  ten  one  of  his  legs 
will  be  found  bobbing  up  and  down  as  though  he  were  run- 
ning a sewing-machine.  If  he  tries  to  rest  his  muscles  he  can 
do  so  for  only  a few  moments  before  they  begin  to  twitch  and 


520  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

move  about  in  all  the  antics  of  Saint  Vitus’s  dance.  Another 
thing  which  is  conducive  to  nervousness  is  smoking.  Adjoining 
every  cafe  is  a cigarette  shop,  and  nearly  everyone  you  meet  has 
a cigarette  in  his  mouth.  The  people  smoke  between  the  courses 
at  their  meals,  and  the  majority  of  the  men,  women,  and  children 
are  saturated  with  nicotine. 


0 


A BANANA  PLANTATION 


POST  OFFICE,  RIO,  BRAZIL 


(521) 


CHAPTER  LIV 


IN  THE  SWITZERLAND  OE  BRAZIL 

Petropolis,  the  Summer  Resort  of  the  Capital  — A Trip  up  the  Organ 
Mountains  on  a Cog  Railroad- — Where  our  Minister  lives,  and 
Where  Dom  Pedro  had  his  Palaces  — An  American  College  for  Girls 
— Woman’s  Rights  in  Brazil,  and  some  Peculiarities  of  Brazilian 
Women. 


[ave  you  ever  heard  of  Petropolis  ? It  is  where  the  presi- 
dent and  the  leading  Brazilian  officials  spend  their  sum- 
mers, and  where  the  foreign  diplomats  live  all  the  year 
round.  It  is  in  the  mountains,  just  back  of  Rio,  about  half  a mile 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  scenery  about  it  is  more  like 


PETROPOLIS,  BRAZIL 


Switzerland  than  the  tropics,  and  its  climate  is  such  that  yellow 
fever  is  a stranger  to  it.  Suppose  you  could  put  a range  of  hills 

(523) 


524  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

3,000  feet  high  just  back  of  New  York  or  Philadelphia,  and  away 
up  on  their  tops  build  a beautiful  city  of  say  20,000  inhabitants. 
Suppose  you  could  reach  this  by  a short  ride  across  the  most 
beautiful  bay  in  the  world,  and  climb  the  hills  by  a cog-road  like 
that  which  goes  up  Mount  Washington.  If  you  can  imagine  this, 
you  have  Petropolis. 

To  get  to  it  you  ride  twelve  miles  on  a steamer.  Next  there 
are  cars  that  whisk  you  over  the  swamps  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains,  where  a little  Baldwin  locomotive  waits  to  pull  you 


RAILWAY  VIADUCT  NEAR  PETROPOLIS  — « WE  GO  OVER  RAVINES11 


up  an  inclined  plane  so  steep  that  you  have  to  keep  your  feet 
on  your  valise  to  prevent  it  rolling  down  to  the  end  of  the  car. 
The  ride  is  wonderfully  beautiful.  Great  trees  loaded  with  or- 
chids stand  high  above  the  jungle  of  matted  green  bushes.  There 
are  fern  trees  waving  their  myriad  arms  at  the  train,  and  tall 
feathery  bamboos  rustle  in  the  breeze  as  the  little  engine  puffs 
by.  Now  you  are  on  the  side  of  a green  mountain  hanging  over 
a ravine  500  feet  deep  and  under  a great  green  spotted  wall 
4,000  feet  high.  Now  you  round  a curve  and  the  rocks  rise 


(526)  UNCLE  SAM  IN  BRAZIL  — OUR  LEGATION  AT  PETROPOL1S 


IN  THE  SWITZERLAND  OF  BRAZIL 


527 


above  you  like  a great  fort.  They  are  brown  and  grim.  Mas- 
sive blocks  of  stone  weighing  thousands  of  tons,  each  1,000  feet 
thick,  hang  over  you,  and  a mighty  wall  2,000  feet  high  seems 
about  to  drop  down  upon  you.  I have  seen  some  of  the  rock- 
wonders  of  the  world.  The  Andes,  the  Himalayas,  and  the  Alps 
all  have  their  features  of  picturesque  grandeur.  The  Garden  of 
the  Gods  and  the  Yellowstone  are  each  unique  in  their  way,  as 
is  this  coast  range  of  Brazil.  It  is  different  from  any  other,  is 
picturesque  in  the  extreme,  and  gorgeous  in  its  clothing  of  luxu- 
riant verdure. 

The  views  of  Rio  and  its  bay  are  magnificent,  and  the  cloud 
effects  vary  with  every  ride.  I have  been  living  at  Petropolis 
during  my  stay  in  this  part  of  Brazil,  and  I go  to  and  come  from 
Rio  daily.  The  other  morning,  when  we  left  the  tops  of  the 
mountains,  Rio  and  the  harbour  were  covered  with  billowy  clouds. 
Not  a tree  or  blade  of  grass  could  be  seen,  save  on  the  moun- 
tains, and  we  looked  down,  as  it  seemed,  upon  a snow  scene  in  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  At  other  times  the  clouds  sailed  in  and  out 
among  these  massive  hills  in  streams  of  silver,  which  emptied 
out  upon  the  plain  into  a great  cloud-lake.  You  ride  often 
through  such  clouds  on  your  way  to  the  bay,  and  if  the  clouds 
lift  and  the  sun  come  out,  you  sail  over  that  wonderful  sapphire 
sheet  of  water  to  the  red-roofed,  white-walled  city  of  Rio. 

Petropolis  is  a combination  of  Switzerland  and  Japan  — of  the 
tropical  and  the  temperate  zones.  The  hills  surrounding  it  are 
covered  with  verdure,  for  the  pure  air  is  moist  and  all  things 
grow  luxuriantly.  A stream  of  water  flows  through  the  city, 
being  crossed  by  red  bridges  that  fit  in  well  with  the  pleasing 
surroundings.  Petropolis  is  a rich  town,  and  its  houses  are  very 
picturesque.  One  of  the  best  homes  is  that  of  the  American 
Legation,  which  is  now  presided  over  by  Colonel  Charles  Page 
Bryan,  our  Minister  to  Brazil.  The  Legation  building  is  a typi- 
cal Brazilian  villa  of  stone  and  stucco,  with  a large  portico  up- 
held by  gray  Doric  columns.  It  is  of  one  story,  but  it  has  many 
rooms;  the  ceilings  are  high  and  the  rooms  are  large  and  airy. 
The  house  is  lighted  by  electricity,  which  is  furnished  by  the 
waterfalls  near  by.  The  house  is  situated  just  opposite  the  sum- 
mer palace  in  which  Dom  Pedro  lived.  It  has  a beautiful  gar- 
den, which  is  separated  from  the  street  by  a stone  fence,  on  one 


52S  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

of  whose  gate-posts  is  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  United  States. 
Behind  it  the  green  hills  rise  precipitously,  forming  a green  wall 
500  feet  high. 

Entering  the  Legation  grounds  you  walk  among  its  rare 
plants  and  trees  on  a wide  pathway  to  the  front  door.  The  ca- 
melia  is  with  us  a hothouse  plant;  it  is  here  a tree,  and  those 
of  the  Legation  gardens  are  masses  of  red,  pink,  and  white 
blossoms.  Then  there  are  bushes  of  rhododendrons  as  big  as 
good-sized  haycocks,  and  azaleas  the  like  of  which  you  have 
never  seen.  There  are  a dozen  different  varieties  of  palms 
on  the  lawn,  and  at  one  side  of  the  house  there  is  a little 
orange  grove,  loaded  with  evergreen  leaves,  out  of  which  show 
golden  balls  of  fruit.  During  a breakfast  at  the  Legation  the 
Minister  often  eats  oranges  from  his  own  trees,  and  his  cook 
goes  out  just  before  the  meal  and  gathers  the  bananas  from  the 
back-yard. 

Another  American  institution  in  Petropolis  is  the  college  for 
girls,  which  is  supported  by  the  women  of  our  Methodist  Church, 
who  pay  ten  cents  apiece  towards  it.  The  college  has  American 
teachers;  its  students  come  from  good  Brazilian  families,  and  its 
educational  reputation  among  the  natives  is  high.  The  college 
building  is  on  the  top  of  a hill  above  Petropolis;  it  was  formerly 
the  home  of  a rich  Brazilian,  and  in  its  exterior  it  looks  more 
like  a palace  than  a school.  Its  rooms  have  ceilings  about  eigh- 
teen feet  high;  its  bathroom  is  as  big  as  the  average  American 
parlour;  and  it  has  a shower-bath  attached  and  a swimming-pool. 
The  school-rooms  are  equipped  with  American  desks  and  all  the 
latest  appliances  in  the  way  of  education,  such  as  models,  maps, 
and  mathematical  instruments. 

Schools  of  this  kind  cannot  but  do  great  good  in  Brazil,  for 
female  education  has  an  indifferent  place  among  the  people.  The 
women  are  not  as  far  advanced  as  they  are  in  Chili,  in  Argen- 
tina, or  in  Uruguay.  They  have  not  yet  made  their  way  into 
the  telegraph  offices,  and  girl  bookkeepers  are  unknown.  In 
Rio  and  in  Sao  Paulo  there  are  telephone  girls,  but  outside  these 
cities  about  the  only  respectable  occupations  for  women  are  school- 
teaching and  going  out  as  governesses.  The  (<  new  woman  ® 
has  not  yet  appeared  south  of  the  equator,  and  the  chief  end  of 
woman  is  marriage.  Marriage,  however,  is  more  a matter  of  love 


GIRLS’  SCHOOL,  PETROPOLIS,  BRAZIL 


(529) 


IN  THE  SWITZERLAND  OF  BRAZIL 


531 


than  is  generally  thought.  The  Brazilians  make  good  husbands 
and  fathers,  and  the  women  are  good  mothers.  The  parents  love 
their  children,  and  the  children  show  great  affection  for  their 
parents.  A child  here  always  kisses  the  hands  of  its  elderly 
relatives,  and  men  often  kiss  the  hands  of  the  women  as  a mark 
of  respect. 

The  daily  life  of  a Brazilian  woman  is  different  from  that  of 
her  American  sister.  She  does  not  spend  much  time  on  her 
dress  before  afternoon;  indeed,  she  is  rather  slouchy  and  likes  to 
take  things  easy.  She  often  wears  a “ mother  hubbard  ” wrapper 
until  noon  or  goes  about  in  a dressing-sack  and  a black  skirt. 
She  has  a cup  of  coffee  and  a roll  on  rising  and  does  not  eat 
again  until  the  noon  breakfast.  She  frequently  appears  at 
breakfast  with  her  hair  down,  and  it  is  not  until  after  the  siesta 
which  followrs  that  she  dresses  herself  up  for  her  pose  at  the 
window. 

You  may  see  women  looking  out  of  the  windows  in  any  Bra- 
zilian town.  They  have  cushions  made  to  fit  the  window  sills, 
upon  which  they  rest  their  arms,  and  they  often  have  padded 
stools  or  benches  upon  which  they  kneel  while  looking  out.  The 
Brazilian  women  spend  more  time  on  their  knees  than  do  any 
other  women  in  the  world;  but,  alas!  it  is  not  in  prayer.  The 
houses  usually  face  the  streets  and  are  flush  with  the  sidewalk. 
Each  house  has  two  or  more  windows  on  the  first  floor  front, 
and  each  window  has  one  or  more  Brazilian  girls  lolling  on  its 
sills,  looking  out.  They  are  bareheaded,  with  flowers  in  their 
hair;  they  are,  moreover,  of  all  ages,  from  six  to  sixty,  and 
many  are  in  their  teens.  They  watch  the  street-cars  as  they 
pass.  If  they  see  anyone  whom  they  know,  they  crook  their 
fingers  at  him  as  though  beckoning  him  to  come  in.  They  do 
this  also  with  their  female  friends.  When  I first  saw  the  mo- 
tion it  seemed  to  me  as  though  every  maiden  was  after 
some  one,  but  I soon  learned  that  the  beckoning  was  merely 
a form  of  salutation,  meaning  “good-day!”  “hello!”  or  “how-do- 
you-do  ? ” 

The  women  of  Brazil  are  very  fond  of  candy,  each  has  thirty- 
two  teeth  or  less,  and  all  of  them  sweet.  They  are  fond  of 
rich  desserts,  one  of  their  favourite  dishes  being  a light  sponge- 
cake saturated  with  melted  sugar  as  a sauce.  Quince  marmalade 


532  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

is  another  favourite  dish,  as  is  also  an  exceedingly  sweet  guava 
cheese. 

Brazilian  women  seldom  go  shopping.  There  is  not  a bargain- 
counter  in  any  Brazilian  store.  Most  of  the  purchases  are  made 
at  home,  all  kinds  of  goods  being  carried  through  the  streets  by 
peddlers,  who  walk  along  slapping  their  yard-sticks  as  a sign  of 
their  trade.  This  custom,  however,  is  dropping  off  now,  but  until 
lately  almost  all  dry-goods  were  sold  in  this  way. 


(533) 


S.  A.— 34 


FERN  TREE,  BRAZIL 


CHAPTER  LV 


BAHIA , AND  THE  DIAMOND  MINES 

How  the  Precious  Stones  are  Dug  out  of  the  Rivers  of  Brazil  — Mined 
by  Native  Indians,  who  Dive  for  the  Diamond  Gravel — Concerning 
the  Carbons,  or  Black  Diamonds,  found  near  Bahia  — The  Gold 
Mines  of  Minas  Geraes,  and  the  new  Gold  Regions  of  Northern 
Brazil  — The  Old  City  of  Bahia,  once  the  Brazilian  Capital — Its 
200,000  People,  most  of  whom  are  Coloured  — American  Gold  Dol- 
lars as  Vest  Buttons. 

rom  Rio  de  Janeiro  I came  by  steamer  two  days  north  to 
Bahia,  the  former  capital  of  Brazil.  It  is  still  a large 
city,  only  surpassed  by  Rio  in  size  and  in  business.  Ba- 
hia is  situated  on  a bay  as  large  as  that  of  Rio  de  Janeiro.  The 
bay  is  of  the  shape  of  a horseshoe,  io  miles  wide  at  the  entrance, 
27  miles  long,  and  in  the  centre  about  20  miles  wide.  On  the 
east  side  of  it  are  huge  bluffs,  and  on  these  Bahia  is  built.  You 
see  it  as  you  enter  the  harbour,  its  white  buildings  rising  out  of 
palm  trees  over  a wall  of  dense  vegetation.  There  are  two  parts 
to  the  city,  one  down  on  the  shore  and  the  other  built  upon  the 
bluff.  The  part  on  the  shore  is  the  business  section,  occupied 
by  the  importing  and  exporting  houses.  This  section  is  worse 
smelling  than  the  slums  of  Naples.  There  is  a distinct  and  sep- 
arate bad  smell  to  every  house,  but  the  smell  disappears  to  some 
extent  as  you  mount  the  bluff;  altogether  the  city  is  insanitary 
in  the  extreme. 

Among  the  most  familiar  features  of  the  city  are  the  negroes,, 
who  are  everywhere.  Nearly  every  one  you  meet  shows  traces 
of  negro  blood;  if  not  in  complexion,  then  in  the  wide  nostrils 
and  semi-flat  noses.  There  are  many  blacks,  and  the  women 
have  become  famous  for  their  size  throughout  Brazil.  They 
are  the  fattest  women  I have  ever  seen.  Some  weigh  three  hun- 
dred pounds,  and  their  dress  is  usually  so  light  that  you  can  eas- 
ily see  that  their  forms  are  not  padded.  It  consists  of  a long 

(535) 


BRAZILIAN  NEGRESS 

design,  through  the  meshes  of  which  the  black  skin  shows  out. 
Nearly  all  have  on  white  or  gay-coloured  turbans,  and  not  a few 
wear  shawls  about  their  waists,  which  form  overskirts  to  their 
chemises.  Many  go  barefooted,  but  more  wear  heel-less  slippers, 


536  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

white  chemise,  without  sleeves,  cut  low  at  the  neck  so  that  their 
satiny  black  arms  and  bosoms  are  somewhat  exposed.  In  the 
neck  of  her  chemise  each  woman  has  a lace-edging  of  beautiful 


BAHIA,  BRAZIL 


BAHIA,  AND  THE  DIAMOND  MINES 


539 


and  so  short  that  they  can  get  little  more  than  their  toes  into 
them,  so  that  the  heel  of  the  shoe  rests  just  under  the  instep. 
Among  ordinary  Caucasians  such  shoes  would  never  do,  but  the 
Bahia  black  women  have  insteps  that  make  you  think  of  the  old 
darkey’s  song  about  his  sweetheart,  wherein  he  says: 

« And  de  hollow  ob  her  foot  makes  a hole  in  de  ground.” 

Many  of  the  Bahia  negresses  are  rich.  Some  wear  half  a dozen 
gold  bracelets  on  each  arm,  a few  display  diamond  rings,  and 
many  wear  gold  chains  about  their  fat  black  necks. 

Bahia  has  perhaps  as  many  negroes  to  the  population  as  has 
any  city  in  Brazil.  It  was  long  the  centre  of  the  slave  trade. 
The  kidnappers  ran  their  cargoes  of  slaves  from  Africa  into  its 
harbour  and  from  here  distributed  the  human  freight  to  all  parts 
of  the  Republic.  Thousands  of  negroes  were  sent  from  Bahia  to 
New  Orleans.  They  were  smuggled  into  the  United  States  after 
the  slave  trade  was  prohibited,  and  into  Brazil  long  after  the  im- 
portation of  slaves  was  forbidden.  Slavery  existed  in  Brazil  up 
to  about  ten  years  ago,  and  the  result  is  that  there  are  now  more 
negroes  in  Bahia  than  whites.  Nor  is  the  colour-line  distinct,  the 
whites  of  Brazil  have  so  intermarried  with  the  negroes;  indeed, 
you  can  now  find  few  white  families  who  have  not  some  negro 
blood. 

Negroes  in  Brazil  have  an  absolute  equality  with  the  whites. 
No  one  thinks  of  objecting  to  their  presence  at  the  tables  in  the 
dining-rooms  of  the  hotels  or  the  steamboats.  On  the  coasting 
vessel  on  which  I came  to  Bahia,  two-thirds  of  the  passengers 
were  coloured,  and  many  of  the  coloured  men  were  better  dressed 
than  I.  Some  of  them  were  very  intelligent,  and  not  a few  were 
property-owners.  I find  the  coloured  people  in  all  sorts  of  posi- 
tions. The  editor  and  proprietor  of  one  of  the  daily  newspapers 
of  Rio  de  Janeiro  is  a coal  black  African,  and  at  one  of  our 
American  minister’s  receptions  I met  the  bishop  of  Amazonas, 
whose  face  is  a mahogany  brown.  His  Blessedness  was  dressed 
in  a beautiful  cardinal  gown;  he  had  a cardinal  skull-cap  on  his 
head;  and  his  hands,  on  one  of  which  was  the  big  ring  of  office, 
were  covered  with  a pair  of  cardinal  gloves.  He  spoke  French 
fluently  and  proved  to  be  a very  intelligent  man. 

The  walls  of  the  Bahia  houses  look  like  mashed  rainbows,  for 
they  are  painted  in  all  colours.  There  are  scores  of  white  houses, 


54°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

houses  of  rose  pink,  and  houses  of  sky  blue.  There  are  some 
buildings  which  make  you  think  of  the  old  song: 

<(  I once  knew  a fellow, 

He  was  not  at  all  yellow, 

But  altogether  green.” 

There  are  houses  here  the  exact  hue  of  the  palm  trees  which 
shade  them,  houses  as  red  as  blood,  and  houses  as  yellow  as 
gold.  There  are  houses  faced  with  porcelain  tiles  imported  from 
Europe.  Many  of  the  windows  are  covered  with  a lace  work  of 
wrought  iron,  and  over  the  doors  are  decorations  of  the  same 
metal.  The  designs  are  original,  and  the  negroes  are  the  de- 
signers. These  features  make  Bahia  picturesque.  Many  of  the 
houses  are  ancient,  for  the  city  is  one  of  the  oldest  on  the  conti- 
nent. Its  babies  had  grown  up  and  become  gray-haired  men  be- 
fore New  York  or  Boston  sprang  into  existence.  Its  bay  was 
discovered  eight  years  after  Columbus  first  crossed  the  Atlantic, 
and  it  was  settled  by  the  Portuguese.  Then  the  Dutch  came 
and  tried  to  drive  the  Portuguese  out.  They  built  houses  and 
left  their  marks  on  the  town.  The  English  also  tried  to  take 
possession,  but  the  Portuguese  finally  conquered,  and  Bahia  is  a 
Portuguese-Brazilian  city  to-day.  It  is  a city  of  considerable  cul- 
ture. It  has  some  of  the  best  schools  in  Brazil,  and  its  people 
pride  themselves  on  its  medical  colleges  and  hospitals.  The 
country  about  is  but  little  settled  and  not  much  developed,  though 
in  the  future  it  will  probably  have  a much  larger  population. 

I see  many  American  gold  dollars  here  in  Bahia.  They  are 
used  by  the  dandies  of  the  city  for  buttons  on  their  white  vests, 
and  the  demand  for  them  is  such  that  they  are  far  above  par. 
Our  consul  tells  me  that  there  are  probably  ten  thousand  of 
them  so  used  in  Bahia  alone.  The  people  are  crazy  for  them; 
the  black  women  want  them  for  chains,  charms,  and  bangles,  and 
they  are  especially  in  demand  to  be  hung  around  the  waists  of 
newborn  babies.  These  coloured  people  have  an  idea  that  such 
charms  bring  good  luck.  The  poorer  babies  have  silver  hung 
about  their  waists,  and  nearly  every  little  boy  I see  on  the  streets 
has  a string  of  charms  about  his  neck  or  loins,  although  he  often 
has  nothing  else. 

Speaking  of  coins,  all  kinds  of  hard  money  are  at  a premium 
in  Bahia.  Even  the  nickels  you  find  in  Rio  and  farther  south 


(54i)  BAHIA,  BRAZIL,  FROM  THE  WATER  FRONT 


BAHIA,  AND  THE  DIAMOND  MINES 


543 


are  not  common;  their  places  are  taken  by  street-car  tickets, 
railroad  tickets,  and  private  shinplasters.  You  see  gold  and 
silver  only  in  the  windows  of  the  banks  or  on  the  counters 
of  the  money-changers.  The  bank  notes  in  circulation  are  those 
of  Brazil,  which  are  in  denominations  of  tens  of  reis.  It  now 
takes  one  thousand  reis  to  make  fifteen  cents  in  our  currency, 
but  exchange  goes  up  and  down  every  day,  and  many  people 
make  money  in  speculating. 

Bahia  is  the  starting-point  for  the  chief  diamond  fields  of 
Brazil.  The  diamonds  are  found  in  the  wilds  far  back  of  the 
city,  along  the  sources  of  the  Paraguassu  river.  They  lie  in  the 
gravel  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  are  dug  up  by  native  divers, 
who  scoop  up  the  gravel  and  carry  it  to  the  shore.  The  shallow 
places  have  long  since  been  worked  over,  and  those  left  are  so 
deep  that  it  is  only  during  the  low  water  of  the  dry  season  that 
any  mining  can  be  done.  At  such  times  the  divers  select  a 
place  where  the  current  is  not  too  rapid,  and  drive  a pole  down 
into  the  centre  of  the  river.  They  then  row  out  to  the  pole,  and 
one  of  them  who  is  naked  dives  to  the  bottom.  He  takes  a sack 
with  him  which  is  kept  open  by  an  iron  ring  sewed  in  the  top. 
There  is  usually  a lot  of  mud  or  silt  above  the  diamond  gravel; 
the  man  has  first  to  scrape  this  off;  he  then  fills  his  sack  with  the 
gravel,  removing  all  he  can  down  to  the  clay.  As  soon  as  the  sack 
is  filled,  he  signals  to  the  man  in  the  canoe  above  and  is  pulled  up 
by  a rope,  aiding  himself  in  his  ascent  by  the  pole.  After  two 
or  three  bags  have  been  emptied  into  the  canoe,  it  is  then  rowed 
to  the  shore  and  the  gravel  is  dumped  out,  far  enough  away  to 
prevent  any  loss  by  a sudden  rise  in  the  river.  More  gravel  is 
taken  out  from  day  to  day  during  the  dry  season,  and  when  the 
rains  begin,  the  deposit  is  all  washed  over  for  carbons  and  dia- 
monds. 

Bahia  is  one  of  the  chief  diamond  markets  in  Brazil.  It  is 
also  the  chief  market  for  carbons,  and  it  is  the  best  place  in 
Brazil  to  learn  about  the  diamond  trade.  Brazil  was  for  many 
years  the  chief  diamond  country  in  the  world.  It  was  in  1727, 
in  the  province  of  Minas  Geraes,  that  diamonds  were  first  discov- 
ered. They  were  being  used  there  by  the  negro  slaves  as  coun- 
ters in  playing  cards.  Later  on,  mines  were  discovered  in  Bahia, 
and  for  a time  Bahia  produced  some  of  the  best  stones. 


544  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

For  years  something  like  a million  dollars’  worth  of  stones  an- 
nually came  from  Brazil.  Most  of  the  stones  were  small,  rarely 
exceeding  twenty  carats,  although  the  “Star  of  the  South,”  dis- 
covered in  1854,  weighed  before  cutting  254  carats.  When  the 
South  African  diamond  fields  were  discovered,  in  1867,  the  Bra- 
zilian mines  dropped  into  insignificance.  At  present  they  do  not 
compare  with  the  African  mines.  Still  diamonds  are  being  taken 
out  every  year,  and  with  modern  machinery  no  one  can  tell  what 
may  yet  be  found. 

There  is  now  more  money  in  carbons  than  in  diamonds.  Car- 
bons are  impure  diamonds  of  a black  or  brown  colour.  They  are 
about  as  hard  as  a diamond,  but  more  porous.  They  are  used 
to  make  fine  boring-machines  and  for  polishing  hard  substances. 
They  are  found  in  all  sizes,  from  little  ones  as  big  as  a grain 
of  sand  to  some  that  weigh  hundreds  of  carats.  A carat  is  a 
weight  so  small  that  it  takes  more  than  160  of  them  to  make 
one  ounce  troy.  Not  long  ago  carbons  were  selling  for  $20  a 
carat,  and  one  recently  found  was  so  large  that  it  brought 
$25,000.  This  weighed,  I am  told,  3,000  carats.  It  was  sold  in 
Bahia  and  sent  off  to  Europe.  Another,  discovered  more  recently, 
weighed  975  carats.  It  was  sold  in  Paris  for  1,000  francs.  These 
large  stones  have,  however,  to  be  broken ; this  always  involves 
great  loss,  as  they  have  no  line  of  fracture,  so  that  in  proportion 
to  weight  the  smaller  carbons  are  more  valuable. 

Mining  for  diamonds  and  carbons  is  like  gambling.  Sometimes 
many  bushels  of  gravel  are  washed  over  before  a stone  is  found, 
and  often  a man  may  wash  for  a whole  season  and  not  find  more 
than  two  or  three.  The  washing  is  chiefly  done  by  negroes, 
who  use  wooden  bowls,  looking  the  gravel  carefully  over  as  they 
wash  it.  The  divers  usually  work  naked,  although  one  American 
proprietor  has  recently  imported  diving  suits  for  his  men.  In 
some  places  the  diamonds  are  found  in  the  gravel  near  the  river 
and  are  washed  down  by  hydraulic  means. 

We  think  of  Brazil  more  as  a land  of  coffee  and  rubber  than 
of  gold,  silver,  or  iron.  Parts  of  the  country  are  full  of  metals. 
The  State  of  Bahia,  where  I now  am,  has  gold  mines,  and  there 
are  rich  mines  of  manganese  near  here  awaiting  some  one  to  de- 
velop them.  In  Minas  Geraes  there  is  a gold  mine  which  has 
been  worked  for  more  than  fifty  years.  There  are  also  rich  gold- 


(545)  WASHING  FOR  DIAMONDS,  BRAZIL 


I 


BAHIA,  AND  THE  DIAMOND  MINES 


547 


diggings  in  Matto  Grosso,  and  gold-washing  goes  on  along  many 
of  the  tributaries  of  the  Amazon. 

Out  of  the  Ouro  de  Morro  de  Fogo  mines  at  Minas  Geraes, 
about  20,000  pounds  of  gold  were  taken  before  Brazilian  inde- 
pendence was  proclaimed,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
there  is  a vast  amount  left.  The  mines  have  never  been  sunk 
more  than  75  feet  on  account  of  the  water;  this  could  easily  be 
pumped  out,  and,  if  done,  would  probably  result  in  much  profit. 

The  gold  mine  I spoke  of  as  having  been  worked  for  fifty 
years  is  the  Morro  Velho,  which  is  now  annually  producing  5,000 
ounces  of  gold.  It  is  one  of  the  most  important  mines  in  Brazil 
and  is  managed  after  modern  methods.  It  takes  out  about  200 
tons  of  ore  a day,  using  100  California  pistons.  It  has  five  great 
stamping  mills,  and  it  reduces  the  gold  to  bars  on  the  spot 
where  it  is  taken  from  the  mines.  The  mines  are  far  back  in 
the  country  and  the  gold  output  is  sent  to  the  railroad  on  carts. 
There  are  no  soldiers  with  it,  and  it  is  evidence  of  the  safety 
of  property  in  Brazil  that,  so  far,  none  of  the  trains  has  been 
robbed.  The  gold-bars  each  weigh  eight  ounces  troy;  they  con- 
tain about  one-half  per  cent  silver,  and  are  each  worth  about 
$3,ooo. 

Of  late  considerable  interest  has  arisen  in  regard  to  the  gold 
mines  north  of  the  Amazon.  In  the  corner  of  Brazil  next  to 
French  Guiana,  there  is  a territory  which  is  said  to  be  rich  in 
gold.  About  $2,000,000  worth  was  taken  out  of  the  mines  in  one 
year,  and  at  present  there  are  many  Frenchmen  mining  gold  in 
that  section.  The  country  is  a wilderness,  without  any  govern- 
ment but  that  of  the  gun  and  the  revolver.  The  climate,  more- 
over, is  bad,  and  those  who  go  there  often  suffer  from  fever. 


CHAPTER  LVI 


UP  THE  COAST  OP  BRAZIL 

Peculiar  Features  of  life  on  a Brazilian  Steamer  — The  city  of  Per- 
nambuco AND  ITS  WONDERFUL  ReEF  — A GREAT  COTTON  COUNTRY — - 
Brazil’s  new  Cotton  Factories,  and  their  enormous  Profits  — A 
visit  to  Ceara  and  its  Capital,  Fortaleza  — Terrible  Famines  — 
The  Carnauba  Palm,  which  Houses,  Feeds,  and  Lights  the  People. 

am  on  the  steamship  Manaos  approaching  the  city  of 
Para,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon.  Twelve  days  ago  I 
left  Bahia,  and  since  then  have  been  travelling  along  the 
coast.  The  Manaos  is  one  of  the  Lloyd  Brazilian  steamship  line 
which  has  the  monopoly  of  the  coast  trade  of  Brazil.  It  has 
steamers  on  the  chief  rivers,  and  its  principal  ships  ply  regularly 
between  Rio  de  Janeiro  and  Manaos,  a thousand  miles  up  the 
Amazon.  The  distance  from  Rio  to  the  Amazon’s  mouth  is  2,900 
miles,  so  that  it  is  almost  as  far  from  the  capital  of  Brazil  to  the 
Amazon  as  it  is  from  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon  to  New  York. 

The  Manaos  was  built  in  England.  It  is  a steamer  of  about 
3,000  tons,  and  has  all  the  modern  improvements.  It  has  incan- 
descent electric  lights,  its  cabins  are  large,  and  the  dining-room  is 
finished  in  marble  and  gold.  It  has  a bath-room,  which  appears 
to  be  used  by  no  one  but  myself,  but  which  supplied  by  the 
warm  salt  waters  of  the  equatorial  seas  is  delightful.  This  is  the 
rosy  side  of  a picture  which  has  its  dark  side  as  well.  A part 
of  the  latter  is  our  passengers.  Those  who  travel  on  the  regular 
steamers  have  no  idea  of  the  human  beings  who  swarm  in  the 
coasting-vessels  of  the  country.  My  companions  are  of  all  colours 
and  conditions  of  men.  Let  me  begin  at  the  top  deck ; this  is 
filled  with  emigrants,  who  are  on  their  way  to  work  in  the  rub- 
ber forests  of  the  Amazon.  There  are  at  least  1,000  of  them, 
all  more  or  less  coloured.  Most  of  the  men  have  their  families 
with  them,  and  there  are  at  least  50  babies  and  many  small  chil- 

(548) 


UP  THE  COAST  OF  BRAZIL 


549 


dren.  The  babies,  in  most  eases,  are  stark-naked,  as  are  all  the 
children  under  four  years  of  age.  The  nude  little  ones  sprawl 
over  the  deck  in  all  sorts  of  attitudes.  They  play  games,  now 
and  then  wrestling  together.  One  four-year-old  boy  plays  horse, 
riding  a knotty  stick  between  his  naked  legs.  As  he  trotted  over 
the  deck  yesterday  another  naked  boy  saw  the  horse  and  coveted 
it.  He  grabbed  it  and  there  was  straightway  a fight,  which  ended 
in  both  children  being  captured  by  their  parents  and  carried 
squalling  to  opposite  sides  of  the  ship. 


A BRAZILIAN  OX-CART 

On  the  lower  gangway,  where  everyone  has  to  pass,  a woman 
has  slung  her  hammock.  She  lies  most  of  the  time  stretched  out 
in  it,  with  a baby  about  a week  old  in  her  arms.  Yesterday 
afternoon  as  I went  by  she  was  giving  the  infant  a bath.  She 
had  placed  a large  gourd  on  the  deck,  stood  the  little  one  in  it, 
and  was  pouring  the  water  over  it  and  scrubbing  it  vigorously. 
The  baby  cried  lustily,  looking,  in  its  nakedness,  the  personi- 
fication of  grief. 

S.  A.— 35 


550  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Speaking  of  hammocks,  they  are  swung  everywhere  on  the 
decks  of  the  ship.  They  are  tied  to  the  rigging,  one  above 
the  other,  like  the  bunks  in  an  Atlantic  liner.  Every  hammock 
has  two  or  three  persons  in  it;  sometimes  it  contains  a man  and 


A PERNAMBUCO  NEGRO 


his  wife,  sometimes  a mother  and  her  children.  The  poorest  of 
the  deck  passengers  sleep  on  the  floor.  They  have  no  seats,  and 
men,  women,  and  children  sprawl  about  the  decks  in  all  sorts  of 
positions,  both  by  day  and  by  night.  They  eat  on  the  deck, 


(552)  THE  REEF,  PERNAMBUCO,  BRAZIL 


UP  THE  COAST  OF  BRAZIL 


553 


squatting  at  their  meals  more  like  animals  than  men.  Each 
family  has  a round  tin  bowl,  the  size  of  a sieve;  this  is  filled 
with  a mixture  of  rice,  mandioca,  and  meat.  As  a general  thing 
they  eat  with  their  fingers,  although  sometimes  a family  has  one 
or  two  spoons  and  a knife  and  fork. 

And  what  do  we  first-class  passengers  eat  and  how  do  we  eat 
it  ? Well,  we  have  plenty  of  food,  and  if  the  marble  and  gold 
walls  of  the  dining-room  salon  could  make  it  delicious,  there 
would  be  no  lack  of  appetite.  I am,  however,  something  of  an 
old  maid  in  my  tastes.  Perhaps  I am  becoming  a snob ; I don’t 
know.  At  any  rate,  I cannot  get  used  to  the  table-ways  of  the 
middle-class  Brazilians.  It  disturbs  me  when  the  negro  lady  who 
sits  beside  me  at  dinner  goes  fishing  in  the  mixed-pickle  bottle 
for  little  onions,  with  the  fork  she  has  just  been  using,  and  having 
caught  several  and  eaten  them,  passes  the  bottle  across  the  table 
to  her  fat  Brazilian  grandma,  who  acts  in  the  same  way. 

As  to  the  meals  themselves,  we  have  four  a day.  The  first, 
at  6 a.  m.  , consists  of  tea  or  coffee  and  a cracker.  At  9.30  there 
is  breakfast,  which  is  much  like  dinner  in  the  number  of  its 
courses,  and  at  4.30  comes  the  dinner  proper.  At  8 o’clock 
tea  is  served.  The  breakfast  begins  with  a soup,  then  follows 
fish  or  meat-fritters,  after  which  braised  beef  and  vegetables. 
There  is  always  a bowl  of  farina  or  roasted  mandioca  flour  on 
the  table.  This  is  sprinkled  over  the  meat  by  the  guests.  The 
Brazilians  like  it,  but  to  me  it  tastes  like  sawdust.  There  is 
also  a mixture  of  dried  beef  and  black  beans,  cooked  in  a stew, 
and  tongue  served  in  different  ways.  The  dessert  is  usually 
guava  jelly,  Edam  cheese,  oranges,  and  bananas.  The  dinner  bill 
is  about  the  same  as  that  of  the  mid-day  breakfast,  the  courses 
being  almost  entirely  of  meats. 

After  leaving  Bahia  we  stopped  at  several  coast  towns  before 
we  came  to  Pernambuco,  or  as  I should  say  Recife.  Pernambuco 
is  the  name  of  the  State,  of  which  Recife  is  the  capital  and  prin- 
cipal port;  but  foreigners  have  so  mixed  up  city  and  state  that 
they  call  both  Pernambuco,  and  Recife  often  bears  the  name 
Pernambuco  on  our  maps.  The  word  “ Recife  ® means  reef,  the 
city  getting  its  name  from  a wonderful  reef  which  here  runs 
from  the  shore  a distance  of  several  miles  out  into  the  sea, 
enclosing  a body  of  deep  water  half  a mile  wide  and  several 
miles  long,  forming  an  excellent  harbour. 


554  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  reef  is  a wall  of  natural  rock  rising  almost  straight  up 
out  of  the  ocean,  on  the  top  of  which  a low  wall  of  stone  has 
been  built,  so  that  at  ebb  tide  there  is  from  ten  to  twenty  feet 
of  it  above  water.  At  high  tide  the  wall  is  still  large  enough  to 
keep  out  the  sea,  which  dashes  itself  against  it  in  vain.  I shall 
never  forget  my  ride  into  the  harbour.  There  was  a heavy  swell 
and  the  waves  gnashed  their  teeth  as  they  threw  themselves 
against  the  stones,  spitting  out,  as  it  seemed,  masses  of  snow- 
white  foam  in  their  anger.  The  spray  was  thrown  thirty  feet 
into  the  air.  It  fell  over  into  the  quiet  waters  of  the  harbour;  and 
as  we  lay  there  and  looked  at  it,  the  sun  came  out  from  behind 
a cloud  and  made  countless  rainbows  with  every  wave.  It  was 
in  fact  a geyser,  two  miles  long,  spouting  up  foam  of  all  colours, 
shades,  and  tints. 

Recife  is  one  of  the  busiest  ports  in  Brazil.  It  has  about 
200,000  inhabitants.  It  lies  right  on  the  sea,  being  so  cut  up  by 
the  arms  of  the  ocean  that  its  people  call  it  the  South  American 
Venice.  It  is  a busy  port,  about  1,000  ships  coming  to  it  every 
year.  It  is  the  first  place  at  which  the  steamers  stop  on  their 
way  to  South  America  from  Europe,  and  it  has  a vast  trade, 
especially  in  cotton  and  in  sugar. 

The  State  of  Pernambuco  is  about  as  large  as  New  York.  It 
is  a cotton  State,  the  cotton  being  raised  on  small  plantations, 
few  farmers  growing  more  than  two  or  three  bales  annually. 
Still  the  output  collectively  is  large.  The  lands  are  cultivated 
chiefly  with  the  axe,  the  bowie  knife,  and  the  hoe.  The  trees 
are  first  cut  down  and  burned,  to  clear  the  land.  Then  holes  are 
dug  and  the  cotton  seeds  planted.  After  this  little  more  is  done 
save  to  keep  down  the  weeds  until  the  cotton  is  ready  for  pick- 
ing. There  is  no  ploughing  or  farming  in  our  sense  of  the 
term.  Lands  are  cheap,  and  I do  not  doubt  that  cotton-growing, 
if  conducted  on  modern  methods,  would  pay. 

It  is  curious  to  see  the  cotton  as  it  is  brought  here  to  the 
warehouses.  Much  of  it  comes  upon  the  backs  of  horses,  two 
200-pound  bales  being  slung  to  the  sides  of  the  saddle.  Much  is 
brought  in  on  ox-carts  and  some  on  low  waggons.  The  cotton 
is  bound  with  rough  sacking.  It  is  often  tied  up  with  vines, 
being  repacked  after  it  reaches  the  seaports.  It  is  interesting  to 
watch  the  loading  and  unloading  at  the  presses.  The  negroes 


UP  THE  COAST  OF  BRAZIL 


555 


carry  the  bales  on  their  heads,  often  taking  two  or  three  hun- 
dred pounds  for  a block  or  more  in  this  way. 

I am  surprised  at  the  increase  in  cotton-planting  in  Brazil. 
The  amount  raised  is  steadily  growing,  and  the  day  may  come 
when  cotton  will  be  king  here  as  it  is  in  our  Southern  States.  It 
is  raised  north  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  all  along  the  coast  to  some  dis- 
tance above  Pernambuco,  and  I have  seen  it  loaded  at  nearly  all 
the  ports.  The  government  has  now  a tariff  on  cotton  goods, 
which  enables  the  Brazilian  cotton  mills  to  make  money.  Within 
the  past  ten  years  155  cotton  factories  have  been  established, 
and  most  of  these  are  paying  considerable  dividends.  One  fac- 
tory paid  60  per  cent  the  first  year,  and  10  per  cent  a year  for 
five  years  thereafter,  at  the  same  time  greatly  enlarging  its 
plant.  In  the  State  of  Alagoas,  below  Pernambuco,  there  is  a 
mill  which  produces  125,000  pieces  of  cloth  per  annum.  It  gives 
employment  to  480  workmen.  The  first  year  it  was  established 
it  paid  a dividend  of  48  per  cent.  The  second  year  it  paid  50 
per  cent  and  the  third  year  40  per  cent.  In  the  State  of  Bahia 
there  are  15  cotton  mills;  there  is  also  one  at  Rio,  and  they  are 
to  be  found  as  far  south  as  Sao  Paulo.  The  southern  mills  get 
most  of  their  cotton  by  ships  from  the  north.  In  the  State  of 
Minas  Geraes  46  factories  are  now  in  operation,  200,000  workmen 
are  employed,  and  thousands  of  tons  of  cotton  are  annually  con- 
sumed. I am  told  that  these  factories  have  something  like 
$150,000  capital.  There  is  a single  manufacturing  company  in 
Bahia  which  has  $1,000,000  capital:  it  operates  six  mills,  running 
440  looms  and  21,000  spindles;  and  produces  about  58,000,000 
yards  of  cotton  cloth  annually.  One  of  the  big  factories  of  Rio 
de  Janeiro  imports  its  thread;  it  belongs  to  an  Italian  company 
and  is  doing  well. 

Wages  are  much  lower  here  than  in  the  cotton  factories  at 
the  North.  They  range  from  20  cts.  to  $1  per  day.  There  are 
no  strikes,  and  the  hours  are  long.  Many  of  the  factories  make 
goods  only  to  order,  weaving  the  mark  and  the  name  of  the 
merchant  in  the  goods.  Most  of  the  cotton  manufactured  is 
cheap.  The  width  which  the  people  of  the  interior  prefer  is  26 
inches,  but  the  higher  grades  are  made  in  24,  32,  and  36-inch 
widths. 

This  is  also  a sugar  country.  Pernambuco  produces  about 
100,000,000  pounds  of  cane-sugar  a year.  It  has  large  sugar 


556  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

factories  and  many  in  which  the  sugar  is  made  into  the  native 
rum,  for  which  there  is  an  active  demand. 

Recife  is  an  interesting  place.  Its  buildings  are  of  bright 
colours,  those  of  the  business  section  being  of  two  and  three 
stories.  Many  of  them  have  walls  of  porcelain  tiles,  and  some 
have  ridge  roofs  that  recall  the  houses  of  Holland.  The  town 
was  once  inhabited  by  the  Dutch,  but  the  Portuguese  drove  the 
Dutch  out,  and  long  ago  the  city  became  entirely  Brazilian.  Its 
people  pride  themselves  on  being  among  the  most  enterprising 
in  Brazil.  The  town  is  equipped  with  newspapers,  a public 


STREET  IN  PERNAMBUCO.  BRAZIL 


library,  telephones,  electric  lights,  street-cars,  and  public  schools. 
It  has  several  colleges,  a gymnasium,  and  a geographical  insti- 
tute. 

The  street-cars  are  hauled  by  mules.  The  fare  is  only  one- 
half  of  our  money,  and  even  at  this  rate  the  lines  pay.  Every- 
one patronizes  the  cars,  whites,  blacks,  and  yellows  sitting  side 
by  side,  as  they  do  everywhere  in  Brazil.  I recently  rode  down 
town  with  a black  girl  of  fifteen  beside  me.  I thought  she  was 
a servant,  until  I saw  in  her  lap  some  books  which  showed  me 


UP  THE  COAST  OF  BRAZIL 


557 


that  she  must  be  a teacher,  or  possibly  a pupil  in  the  high  school. 
One  book  was  La  Fontaine’s  ( Fables } in  French,  another  was  an 
algebra,  and  the  third  a geography  in  Portuguese. 

During  my  stay  I visited  the  market.  It  is  as  fine  as  that  of 
any  American  city,  and  meats  are  sold  very  cheaply.  I saw  ex- 
cellent beefsteaks  offered  at  eight  cents  a pound,  and  mutton  at 
similar  rates.  Speaking  of  mutton,  they  have  very  good  sheep 
and  goats  in  this  part  of  the  world.  The  goats  are  raised  for 
their  skins,  which  are  shipped  in  great  quantities  to  the  United 
States  to  be  made  into  shoes.  Flides  are  also  exported.  One 
variety  of  sheep  is  used  by  the  children  for  riding,  and  it  is  a 
common  thing  in  the  country  for  each  child  to  have  its  riding 
sheep.  The  wool  makes  a soft  seat,  and  the  little  ones  gallop 
about  without  danger  of  being  much  hurt  when  they  fall. 

The  next  long  stop  after  leaving  Pernambuco  was  at  Forta- 
leza, a town  of  about  50,000,  the  capital  of  the  State  of  Ceara. 
Ceara  is  as  large  as  Ohio;  it  is  situated  about  200  miles  south  of 
the  equator,  just  below  the  Amazonian  forests  and  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  highlands  of  Brazil.  It  consists  largely  of  moun- 
tains and  high  plains.  Some  of  its  peaks  are  from  3,000  to  6,000 
feet  high,  and  its  more  elevated  lands  are  at  times  as  dry  and 
bare  as  Sahara.  It  is  a land  of  frequent  famines  and  droughts, 
and  many  thousands  of  its  people  die  from  such  causes. 

The  city  of  Forteleza  is  not  unlike  those  of  central  and 
southern  Brazil.  It  has  the  same  one-story  houses,  built  close 
to  the  streets,  the  same  open  windows,  out  of  which  girls  and 
women  are  hanging  and  gazing  at  the  passers-by,  and  the  same 
naked  babies  who  sprawl  about  in  all  conditions  of  dirtiness.  In 
this  hot  region  few  of  the  children  up  to  the  age  of  four  wear 
clothes.  It  is  so  hot  at  midday  that  you  feel  it  would  be  a 
pleasure  if  you  could  (( get  out  of  your  skin  and  sit  in  your 
bones.” 

Ceara  is  noted  for  its  beautiful  lace,  its  talking  parrots,  and 
the  carnauba  palm.  The  latter  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  of 
trees,  and  can  be  used  for  more  things  perhaps  than  any  other. 
It  houses,  feeds,  and  lights  the  people.  Its  roots,  when  made 
into  a tea,  will  clear  your  blood  like  sarsaparilla.  Its  trunk  can 
be  used  for  building  material,  or  when  ground  up  can  be  made 
into  paper  or  cloth.  The  palmetto  of  the  carnauba  is  eaten  as  a 
vegetable.  From  it  wine  and  vinegar  are  extracted,  and  out  of 


558  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

it  comes  a saccharine  substance  as  well  as  a sago  which  is  very 
nutritious.  In  times  of  famine  the  carnauba  forms  a large  part 
of  the  food  of  the  people;  its  fruit  is  used  for  feeding  cattle, 
and  its  nuts,  which  are  rather  oily,  make  a good  substitute  for 
coffee.  The  stem  has  a pith  which  can  be  used  for  cork,  and  of 
its  wood  musical  instruments,  pumps,  and  tubes  are  made.  Out 
of  the  stem  also  comes  a white  liquid  or  sap,  much  like  the  milk 
of  the  cocoanut,  and  when  ground  it  forms  a flour  somewhat  like 
maize.  Of  the  straw  on  the  stem,  hats,  baskets,  brooms,  and  mats 
are  made.  In  addition  to  these  things  the  leaves  of  the  car- 
nauba furnish  a wax,  which  makes  excellent  candles.  This  wax 
is  sold  in  the  markets  of  Forteleza  and  much  of  it  is  shipped 
abroad.  Some  years  ago  the  export  of  carnauba  wax  from  Ceara 
amounted  to  more  than  3,000,000  pounds  yearly,  while  the  home 
consumption  was  estimated  at  almost  2,000,000  pounds.  These 
figures  I take  from  the  reports  of  one  of  our  consuls. 


-- 


(560) 


VENUS  OF  THE  UPPER  ANDEAN  AMAZON 


CHAPTER  LVII 


ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 

Travelling  on  an  Ocean  Steamer  up  the  greatest  Valley  in  the  World 
— The  wonderful  size  of  the  Amazon  — Its  many  Tributaries  and 
its  floating  Islands  — Steaming  through  the  Delta  — How  the 
River  looks  a thousand  Miles  from  the  Sea — Sketches  of  the 
People  and  their  Homes  — The  Floods  in  the  Amazon  Basin, 
the  Rainiest  part  of  the  World  — The  Cacao  Plantation,  and  how 
Chocolate  is  Raised. 

float  upon  the  mighty  Amazon;  steaming  up  the  greatest 
river  in  the  world;  riding  on  and  on  over  a yellow  in- 
land sea,  now  coasting  shores  lined  with  tropical  vege- 
tation, and  now  so  far  out  that  one  bank  is  only  a hazy  line  of 
blue  as  seen  from  the  other.  I am  on  an  ocean  steamer  800 
miles  from  the  Atlantic,  in  the  greatest  river  valley  in  the 
world.  I entered  the  Amazon  on  the  south  side  of  the  island  of 
Mara  jo  and  stopped  some  time  at  the  city  of  Para,  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  region,  which  I shall  describe  farther  on.  I am  now 
on  my  way  up  the  river,  and  at  the  present  moment  am  within 
half  a mile  of  its  southern  bank. 

The  shores  are  lined  with  cacao  orchards,  and  with  my  glass  I 
can  see  the  golden  fruit  from  which  our  chocolate  comes,  shining 
out  from  among  the  green  leaves.  Back  of  the  orchards  are  the 
lofty  trees  of  the  mighty  Amazon  forests,  and  close  to  the  shore 
are  the  gray  thatched  huts  of  the  people.  The  opposite  bank  is 
wooded,  but  it  is  so  far  away  that  it  forms  only  a line  of  soft 
dark  blue  which  fades  into  the  lighter  blue  of  the  sky. 

In  front  of  and  behind  the  steamer  stretches  the  mighty  stream, 
carrying  the  waters  of  the  northern  and  central  Andes  down  to 
the  sea.  It  has  in  it  the  washings  of  more  than  half  a continent; 
it  is  the  down-spout  of  a watershed  half  as  large  as  the  whole 
United  States.  With  it  are  mixed  particles  from  the  sluice-boxes 
of  the  gold  mines  of  the  Beni  and  the  Maranon.  Parts  of  its 

(561) 


562  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


waters  have  received  bitter  kisses  from  the  quinine  trees  of  Peru, 
while  other  parts  have  trickled  from  the  soil  of  Ecuador.  It  em- 
braces the  drainings  of  the  sacred  cities  of  the  Incas,  and  it  may 
contain  some  of  the  washings  of  the  diamond  mines  of  upper  Bra- 
zil. It  has  passed  through  countries  inhabited  by  cannibals;  it 
has  come  from  wilds  where  the  foot  of  the  white  man  has  never 
trod;  from  mountains  and  valleys  and  lofty  plateaus;  and  is  now 
on  its  way  across  the  continent  to  its  great  mother,  the  ocean. 

As  I entered  the  river  I coasted  along  the  south  side  of  the 
island  of  Marajo,  which  lies  at  the  mouth;  and  then  wound  in 
and  out  through  the  narrows,  a series  of  wonderful  channels, 
which  brought  me  into  the  main  stream.  I first  sailed  through 
the  Para  river  out  of  the  Amazon’s  mouth.  Farther  on,  I crossed 
the  mouth  of  the  Tocantins,  up  which  you  can  steam  for  days 
into  the  wilds  of  Brazil.  To-morrow  I shall  go  past  the  mouth 
of  the  Madeira,  and  I have  already  crossed  the  mouths  of  other 
tributaries,  a number  of  which  are  as  large  as  some  of  the  so- 
called  great  rivers  of  the  world. 

The  Amazon  system  is  unquestionably  the  greatest  river  sys- 
tem of  the  globe.  It  has  1,100  branches  and  receives  into  itself 
more  than  100  rivers.  It  has  eight  tributaries,  each  of  which  has 
a navigable  length  of  1,000  miles.  The  Amazon  proper  is  naviga- 
ble for  large  steamers  as  far  up  as  Manaos,  which  is  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Rio  Negro,  and  as  far  inland  from  the  ocean  as 
Chicago.  There  are  smaller  steamers  which  go  1,350  miles  far- 
ther on  to  Iquitos,  Peru,  so  that  you  steam  up  the  Amazon  in  an 
almost  straight  line  2,350  miles  westward  from  the  sea. 

There  are  steamers  on  the  Rio  Negro  that  sail  to  the  north- 
westward 470  miles  from  Manaos.  You  can  get  steamships  on 
the  Madeira  that  will  take  you  to  the  borders  of  Bolivia,  and, 
indeed,  there  are,  all  told,  5,000  miles  of  steamship  navigation  on 
the  Amazon  and  its  branches,  while  the  whole  river  system  is 
estimated  as  having  something  like  50,000  miles  of  navigable 
waterways.  The  whole  valley  is  covered  with  a network  of 
rivers  and  streams,  and  it  is  not  until  you  realize  its  size  that 
you  can  appreciate  the  extent  of  the  system. 

There  is  no  valley  in  the  world  like  that  of  the  Amazon.  It 
is  700  miles  wide  and  2,400  miles  long.  It  is  as  wide  as  from 
New  York  to  Cleveland,  and  is  longer  than  from  Philadelphia  to 
Great  Salt  Lake.  It  is  more  like  a sloping  plain  than  a valley. 


ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 


5 63 


It  has  not  the  high  walls  of  other  valleys,  and  its  slopes  to  the 
north  and  south  are  so  gradual  that  by  one  short  canal  the  water 
systems  of  all  South  America  could  be  connected.  The  Parana 
and  Paraguay  system  runs  almost  to  the  Amazon.  You  can  go 


INDIAN  AMAZONAS  IN  BARK  CLOTHING 

up  the  Paraguay  and  its  tributaries,  and  by  carrying  your  canoe 
a few  miles  can  launch  it  on  the  tributaries  of  the  Amazon  and 
float  down  to  the  Atlantic.  The  waters  of  the  Amazon  and  those 
of  the  Orinoco,  which  flow  into  the  Atlantic  at  the  northern 


564  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

part  of  South  America,  are  actually  united  by  the  Cassiquiare 
river,  so  that  with  a short  canal  connecting-  with  the  Paraguay 
one  could  really  sail  from  the  edge  of  the  Caribbean  sea  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata. 

The  slope  of  the  valley  from  the  Andes  to  the  sea  is  very 
slight.  Its  fall  in  2,000  miles  is  only  200  feet,  or  just  about  an 
inch  to  the  mile.  You  would  hardly  think  that  the  water  would 
flow  at  all  with  so  slight  a fall,  but  it  does  flow,  and  it  carries 
with  it  vast  quantities  of  silt.  Millions  of  tons  of  mud  are  taken 
down  by  it  every  day  into  the  Atlantic.  Tree  trunks  and  bits  of 
vegetation  which  grow  only  in  the  Peruvian  Andes  have  been 
seen  floating  in  the  ocean  400  miles  east  of  the  mouth  of  the 
Amazon,  and  the  waters  are  said  to  be  stained  quite  600  miles 
from  its  mouth. 

Here  the  colour  of  the  river  is  yellow.  It  is  about  as  thick 
as  pea-soup,  and  I can  see  not  only  trees  and  grass  floating  by, 
but  great  beds  of  vegetation,  floating  islands,  which  have  been 
torn  from  the  uplands,  and  are  being  carried  down  to  the  sea. 
Some  of  these  islands  are  as  large  as  an  acre  in  size.  They  rise 
and  fall  in  waves  as  our  steamer  goes  by.  Now  and  then  they 
are  caught  by  snags  near  the  shore  and  held  there  for  the  floods 
or  heavy  winds  to  carry  them  off. 

The  greater  part  of  the  Amazon  valley  is  made  by  the  mud 
brought  down  by  the  river.  Geologists  say  that  there  was  origi- 
nally a wide  strait  here  joining  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  oceans. 
South  America  then  consisted  of  two  divisions,  the  highlands  of 
Venezuela  and  the  Guianas  on  the  north,  and  the  great  island  of 
Brazil  on  the  south.  Then  the  Andes  were  thrown  up  out  of  the 
sea  on  the  west.  The  bottom  of  the  Amazon  valley  was  raised, 
the  waters  of  the  ocean  rolled  back,  and  this  great  Amazon  plain 
was  formed.  During  the  centuries  since  then  the  waters  have 
been  rolling  down  through  it  to  the  Atlantic,  loaded  with  mud. 
The  city  of  Para  stands  on  land  made  of  this  mud,  and  from 
it  the  great  island  of  Marajo  has  been  built  up.  Every  year 
there  are  floods  which  turn  this  region  into  a vast  inland  sea. 
When  the  water  subsides  quantities  of  mud  have  been  left,  and 
thus  year  by  year  the  delta  of  the  Amazon  has  been  formed. 

The  waterways  of  the  delta  are  more  wonderful  than  those  of 
Holland.  I saw  something  of  them  when  I left  the  island  of 
Marajo  and  sailed  into  the  main  body  of  the  Amazon.  The  land 


(565) 


S.  A. — 36 


VEGETATION  ON  THE  AMAZON 


! 


ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 


567 


there  is  cut  up  by  natural  canals,  forming  vast  islands  of  curious 
shapes  separated  by  narrow  streams  of  water,  walled  with  trop- 
ical vegetation.  I have  seen  most  of  the  great-  rivers  of  the 
world,  but  nowhere  else  have  I seen  anything  like  this.  Let  me 
give  you  some  notes  I made  while  sitting  in  the  prow  of  the 
steamer  as  we  passed  through. 

We  are  now  in  the  great  delta  of  the  Amazon.  We  have  left 
the  rushing  channel  where  the  river  rolls  along  in  yellow  waves 
on  its  turbid  course,  and  are  floating  through  canals,  the  waters 
of  which  are  as  smooth  as  burnished  steel,  but  which  the  setting 
sun  has  changed  to  copper  and  to  gold.  On  all  sides  are  islands, 
floating  as  it  were  on  a copper  sea,  masses  of  rich,  dark  navy 
blue  and  gorgeous  green.  Our  steamer  is  passing  between 
walls  of  emerald  plush  100  feet  high,  which  cut  by  other  canals, 
similarly  wooded,  make  it  seem  as  though  we  were  travelling 
through  one  ©f  nature’s  great  cities.  It  is  a fairy  city  of  the 
Amazon  — a city  not  built  with  hands,  a city  populated  by  mon- 
keys, jaguars,  parrots,  and  butterflies.  It  is  the  haunt  of  the 
crocodile,  which  here  grows  to  its  greatest  size.  It  is  the  home 
of  the  orchid  and  the  palm,  of  the  India  rubber  tree,  and  of 
countless  other  tropical  plants,  each  of  which  would  be  a rarity 
in  the  botanical  gardens  of  Europe. 

Take  a look  at  the  trees;  what  a variety  of  palms!  Some  of 
them  are  only  as  big  around  as  your  arm,  but  they  are  as  tall  as 
a six-story  house,  extending  from  the  ground  to  the  top  without 
branches,  and  ending  in  a waving  tassel  of  leaves.  There  are 
others  that  sprout  out  in  great  bunches  from  the  ground  — palms 
loaded  with  cocoanuts,  each  nut  in  its  green  husk  as  large  as  a 
foot-ball.  There  are  palms  that  branch  out  like  fans,  and  there 
are  royal  palms  100  feet  tall,  that  tower  high  above  the  smaller 
varieties.  But  the  most  striking  trees  of  the  Amazon  are  not  the 
palm  trees.  We  look  in  vain  for  a forest  of  palms.  Palms  grow 
among  the  other  trees  of  the  woods,  and  you  seldom  see  many 
palms  close  together.  The  other  forest  trees  in  the  distance  look 
much  like  our  trees  at  home.  When  you  get  close  to  the  shore, 
however,  you  see  that  the  trees  are  matted  with  vines.  The 
bark  of  many  of  them  is  silver  gray,  and  long  creepers  hang 
down  from  their  branches  to  the  ground,  so  that  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  make  your  way  through  without  the  aid  of 


an  axe. 


568  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Some  of  the  trees  are  enormous.  The  one  that  bears  the 
Brazil  nut  towers  high  above  all  others.  It  has  a foliage  of  rich 
dark  green,  and  this  extends  out  in  the  shape  of  a great  hill  or 
mound  of  green  away  up  there  in  the  air.  The  Brazil  nuts  are 
like  walnuts,  only  each  nut  is  about  twice  the  size  of  a base-ball. 
It  has  a thick  husk  over  it,  and  inside  of  it  there  are  from  15  to 
20  of  the  Brazil  nuts  of  commerce. 

Some  of  the  Amazon  trees  are  covered  with  flowers.  Over 

there  at  the  right  there  is  a haystack  of  violets  poised  up  on 

the  top  of  a huge  trunk,  sixty  feet  high.  Farther  over  you  may 

see  a tree  with  blossoms  like  buttercups.  Image  in  the  eye  of 

your  mind  a stack  of  buttercups  as  large  as  a circus  tent,  away 
up  in  the  air,  surrounded  by  green,  and  you  have  the  effect.  The 
most  beautiful  things,  however,  are  the  little  things,  the  orchids 
that  cling  to  the  dead  branches,  the  fern  trees,  and  plants,  that 
have  leaves  dusted  with  silver  and  copper  and  gold. 

I saw  but  few  people  on  my  way  up  the  Amazon.  Along  the 
banks,  here  and  there,  cut  out  of  the  woods,  is  a clearing  just 
big  enough  for  a hut  and  a garden.  The  hut  is  made  of  poles 
and  palm  leaves,  and  the  garden  consists  of  a few  banana  plants, 
an  orange  tree  or  so,  and  some  palm  trees.  The  huts  are  so 
rude  that  the  wind  whistles  through  them,  and  the  roofs  merely 
serve  to  keep  out  the  rain  and  the  sun.  They  are  built  close  to 
the  edge  of  the  river.  Naked  babies  play  on  the  shores  in  front 
of  them,  and  barefooted  men  and  women,  many  of  whom  are 
mulattoes  or  negroes,  stand  and  look  at  our  steamer  as  it  goes 
by.  Most  of  these  people  are  rubber-seekers,  a few  own  cacao 
orchards,  but  all  seem  to  be  thriftless  and  poverty-stricken. 

Many  of  the  people  can  live  in  their  huts  only  a part  of  the 
year.  During  the  floods  they  have  to  go  to  the  higher  lands,  for 
the  Amazon  valley  is  the  rainiest  region  in  the  world.  It  is 
estimated  that  1,500,000  cubic  feet  of  rain  falls  upon  it  every 
day  the  year  through.  This  is  an  average  of  72  inches  of  rain 
per  annum.  In  other  words,  if  the  water  lay  where  it  fell  the 
whole  valley  would  be  covered  with  rain  so  deep  that  it  would 
drown  the  average  man.  In  many  parts  of  the  valley  it  rains 
every  day.  In  Para  I had  to  make  my  appointments  to  call 
after  the  usual  afternoon  shower,  and  here  farther  up  the  Ama- 
zon the  air  is  full  of  moisture  and  mist.  Everything  is  rusty; 
even  my  knife  has  rusted  in  my  pocket.  I have  to  keep  my 


ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 


569 


revolver  well  oiled,  and  if  I leave  my  gun  loaded  over  night  it 
is  sometimes  so  damp  that  it  will  not  go  off  in  the  morning. 
My  camera  is  freckled  with  rust,  and  my  typewriter  looks  as 
though  it  came  from  a junk-shop. 

The  greatest  rains  are  in  our  winter.  In  November  and  Feb- 
ruary the  Amazon  rises  from  30  to  50  feet  above  its  usual  level. 
At  this  season  a vast  part  of  the  valley  is  flooded,  and  thousands 
of  square  miles  are  covered  with  water  for  months.  Many  of 
the  islands  are  submerged.  The  water  flows  out  and  in  among 
the  tops  of  the  trees,  and  the  valley  for  1,000  miles  and  more  is 


AMAZONAS  AND  ALLIGATOR 


a vast  inland  sea  from  15  to  100  miles  wide.  As  you  go  up  the 
river,  you  see  here  and  there  long  stretches  of  meadows  which 
are  made  by  these  floods.  The  trees  will  not  grow  upon  the 
lands  where  the  waters  lie  for  months;  the  result  is  the  pasture- 
fields  of  the  Amazon,  which  are  vast  in  extent.  There  are  also 
many  cattle,  and  I am  told  that  thousands  are  pastured  on  the 
island  of  Marajo. 

The  people  of  the  Amazon  rely  entirely  upon  boats  for  get- 
ting about.  Every  hut  we  have  passed  has  had  two  or  three 
boats  tied  to  its  wharf.  Some  are  dug-out  canoes,  others  are 


5 7°  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


flatboats,  and  at  one  or  two  large  houses  we  saw  steam  launches. 
Some  of  the  row  boats  are  painted  in  bright  colours,  and  not  a 
few  have  canopies  or  covers  over  them,  under  which  their  owners 
can  climb  to  keep  out  of  the  sun. 

As  we  passed  the  huts  the  people  usually  ran  out  and  dragged 
the  boats  up  on  the  banks.  Sometimes  they  jumped  into  the 
boats  and  rowed  them  out  from  the  land  to  prevent  the  waves 


BOAT  ON  THE  AMAZON 


made  by  the  steamer  from  overturning  them  and  filling  them 
with  water. 

There  are  no  roads  in  these  Amazon  forests  The  only  paths 
are  those  that  go  from  one  rubber  tree  to  another.  These  are 
too  rough  and  winding  for  the  people  to  use  in  the  way  of 
travel,  and  they  lead  to  no  particular  place.  The  only  roads  are 
the  streams,  and  the  people  go  visiting  in  boats.  They  carry 
their  cacao  and  rubber  to  market  in  boats,  relying  entirely  upon 
this  method  of  getting  from  place  to  place. 


ON  THE  MIGHTY  AMAZON 


571 


There  are  few  villages  along  the  banks  of  the  river.  We 
passed  the  towns  of  Santarem  and  Porto  Alegre  without  stop- 
ping, but  anchored  for  a time  at  Obidos,  one  of  the  well-known 
ports  of  the  Amazon.  It  is  about  500  miles  from  the  sea,  at  the 
narrowest  part  of  the  channel.  The  river  bed  there  is  only  a 
little  more  than  a mile  wide,  so  that  the  immense  body  of  the 
Amazon  rushes  through  with  great  force,  having  cut  out  a chan- 
nel 240  feet  deep.  The  current  is  so  strong  that  anchors  alone 
will  not  hold  the  steamers,  and  our  ship  was  fastened  by  cables 
to  the  trees  on  the  banks. 

Obidos  has  been  represented  as  having  more  than  1,000  in- 
habitants; I doubt,  however,  whether  an  accurate  census  would 
give  it  500.  It  is  merely  a collection  of  little  one-story  houses 
cut  out  of  the  woods,  with  a few  stores  and  a billiard  saloon. 
During  my  stay  it  was  exceedingly  hot,  and  the  place  was  dreary 
in  the  extreme. 

Above  Obidos  are  many  orchards  of  cacao  trees;  they  line  the 
Amazon  for  miles.  The  trees  look  much  like  lilac  bushes;  they 
are  from  15  to  30  feet  in  height,  and  branch  up  in  sprouts  from 
the  bottom.  They  are  gnarly,  and  the  leaves  and  fruit  sprout 
directly  from  the  limbs.  The  fruit,  when  ripe,  is  of  an  orange 
hue,  streaked  with  red ; it  is  the  shape  of  a squash  or  a very 
large  lemon;  it  has  a thick  shell,  and  inside  there  are  many 
seeds  enveloped  in  a soft  pulp.  The  seeds  are  the  cacao  beans 
of  commerce.  They  have  black  hearts  full  of  oil.  When  ground 
the  hearts  make  the  chocolate,  and  the  shells  of  the  seeds  form 
what  we  call  cocoa. 

The  orchards  as  a rule  are  poorly  cared  for.  Most  of  them 
are  old,  and  although  there  is  plenty  of  ground  for  new  trees 
very  few  are  planted.  Still  the  business  pays  well.  The  trees 
begin  to  yield  fruit  three  years  after  they  are  set  out,  and  it 
is  said  they  will  continue  to  bear  for  fifty  years.  Two  crops  a 
year  are  gathered,  and  the  only  cultivation  necessary  is  to  keep 
down  the  weeds.  The  chocolate  of  the  Amazon  is  excellent,  the 
French  preferring  it  to  all  others.  About  5,000  tons  are  raised 
annually,  and  the  yearly  exports  from  Para  alone  often  amount 
to  more  than  7,000,000  pounds. 


CHAPTER  LVIII 


THE  GREAT  CITIES  OF  THE  AMAZON 


Some  features  of  Para  and  ManAos,  which  control  the  Trade  of  the 
Valley  — High  and  Low  Life  at  the  Amazon’s  Mouth  — ManAos, 
the  Metropolis  of  the  Rio  Negro  — An  Ocean  Port  a Thousand 
Miles  from  the  Atlantic — A town  of  Electric  Railroads,  Tele- 
phones, and  Charitable  Institutions  — Iquitos,  on  the  Peruvian 
Amazon,  a Steamship  Port  2,300  miles  inland. 


lOJC he  great  cities  of  the  Amazon  valley!  It  seems  odd  to 
think  of  the  savage  Amazon  having  cities  at  all,  but  it  is 
really  a trade  centre,  annually  exporting  products  worth 
many  millions  of  dollars.  The  biggest  city  on  it  is  Para,  which 
lies  at  its  mouth,  1,000  miles  east  of  Manaos  where  this  chapter 
is  written. 

Para  now  has  a population  of  100,000,  and  it  is  growing  as 
fast  as  the  dense  vegetation  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  It  is 
a modern  city,  with  electric  lights,  telephones,  and  street-cars. 
It  has  a large  theatre,  two  second-class  hotels,  and  an  amount  of 
vice  that  would  shock  our  modern  reformers.  It  has  numerous 
cafes,  in  which  string-bands  with  women-performers  nightly  act, 
and  on  the  main  street  in  the  heart  of  the  city  is  a building 
known  as  the  (<  High-Life  Hotel  * which  is  devoted  to  life  of  the 
lowest  order.  This  hotel,  as  pronounced  by  the  Portuguese,  is 
called  the  (<  Higgy-Liffey,”  for  that  is  the  way  the  Portuguese 
pronounce  high -life. 

Notwithstanding  this  wickedness,  I rather  liked  Para.  It  has 
a very  respectable  club,  the  members  of  which  give  dances  twice 
a week  and  to  which  the  families  of  the  better  class  come.  It 
has  fine  residence  streets,  a number  of  beautiful  parks,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  fear  of  yellow  fever,  which  always  hangs  over  it, 
life  in  it  would  not  be  so  unendurable.  As  it  is,  nearly  every 
foreigner  is  in  constant  dread  of  the  fever,  and  many  of  the  busi- 
ness men  carry  bottles  of  castor  oil  about  in  their  pockets  and 
(572) 


(573)  WHARF  AT  MANAOS,  1,000  MILES  UP  THE  AMAZON 


THE  GREAT  CITIES  OF  THE  AMAZON 


575 


drink  a tumblerful  at  the  slightest  headache  or  intimation  of 
indigestion.  This  is,  I am  told,  the  best  remedy  for  immediate 
use  in  case  of  a yellow-fever  attack. 

But  let  me  tell  you  how  Para  looks.  As  you  see  it  from  the 

river  it  is  a low  white  city  with  red  and  other  bright-coloured 

buildings  rising  out  of  the  white.  A row  of  palm  trees  lines  the 
shore,  and  behind  them  are  the  huge  wood  and  corrugated  iron 

warehouses  from  which  the  Para  rubber  is  shipped  to  all  parts 


GENERAL  STORE  AT  PARA 

of  the  world.  You  see  this  through  a thicket  of  masts,  for  the 
Amazon  is  here  filled  with  shipping.  There  are  big  ocean  steam- 
ers from  Europe  and  the  United  States;  there  are  iron  lighters 
shaped  much  like  the  whaleback  boats  of  the  lakes;  there  are 
scores  of  miscellaneous  sailing-vessels  and  hundreds  of  dug-out 
canoes,  with  dark-faced  boatmen  paddling  them  to  and  fro. 

On  landing  you  find  yourself  in  one  of  the  busiest  of  South 
American  ports.  Negroes  and  mulattoes  are  loading  and  unload- 
ing the  ships;  they  are  carrying  on  board  great  boxes  of  rubber; 


576  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

they  are  bearing  boxes  and  bales  on  their  heads  to  the  shore.  The 
crowd  about  the  wharves  is  much  the  same  as  that  on  the  docks 
of  New  Orleans.  The  people  are  of  all  shades  of  white,  yellow, 
and  black.  There  are  swarthy  negroes  from  Jamaica,  yellow- 
skinned men  from  upper  Brazil,  sallow  Portuguese,  besides  a 
sprinkling  of  all  the  nations  of  Europe. 

The  labouring  people  are  in  their  bare  feet,  and  most  of  them 
are  bare-headed.  The  men  wear  cotton  shirts  and  trousers,  the 
latter  upheld  by  waist-bands.  The  women  dress  in  bright-coloured 


MARKET  ON  WHARF  AT  PARA 


calicoes.  See  that  negro  trotting  along  with  a bale  of  sole  leather 
on  his  head!  Behind  him  is  a woman  with  a great  basket  of 
mandioca  carried  in  the  same  fashion,  and  farther  back  comes  a 
mulatto  with  an  enormous  turtle  balanced  on  his  crown.  The 
turtle  is  as  big  around  as  a wash-tub:  it  kicks  out  its  legs,  and 
agonizingly  thrusts  forth  its  head  as  it  lies  there  on  its  back 
shading  the  man. 

Here  comes  a cart,  hauled  by  a pony.  It  looks  as  though  it  had 
a load  of  hams  in  it,  and  as  it  goes  past  us  we  are  greeted  by  a 


FASHIONABLE  RESIDENCE  STREET  IN  PARA 


THE  GREAT  CITIES  OF  THE  AMAZON 


579 


smell  like  that  of  a smoke-house.  Those  are  lumps  of  rubber 
on  their  way  to  the  shipping-houses  for  sale.  There  are  scores 
of  rubber-houses  near  the  wharves.  Everyone  is  handling  rub- 
ber, and  the  air  smells  as  though  there  had  been  a recent  fire 
and  water  had  been  dashed  over  it.  Men  are  carrying  rubber 
from  the  canoes  to  the  warehouses.  They  are  taking  it  in  and 
out  of  the  buildings.  They  are  chopping  it  up  and  packing  it 
into  boxes  and  marking  it  for  shipment  to  all  parts  of  the  world. 
Para  is  the  greatest  of  all  rubber  ports,  and  the  chief  business 
of  the  city  is  the  supplying  rubber  camps  with  goods  and  selling 
the  product. 

But  let  us  take  a street-car  and  ride  out  through  the  residence 
section.  Para  is  one  of  the  cleanest  and  best-built  towns  in 
Brazil.  It  has  hundreds  of  houses  of  ventilated  brick,  covered 
with  stucco,  painted  in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow.  Some  are 
frescoed  and  others  are  decorated  with  wreaths  and  figures  in 
plaster.  There  are  many  houses  faced  with  porcelain  tiles,  which 
have  been  brought  here  from  Portugal.  Some  of  the  houses  have 
balconies  of  wrought-iron,  and  many  have  wrought-iron  work 
over  their  windows.  They  are  well-furnished  and  make  comfort- 
able houses. 

The  city  of  Manaos  is  even  more  interesting  than  Para.  It  is 
1,000  miles  inland,  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Amazon  forest. 
There  are  woods  about  it  so  dense  that  monkeys  could  travel 
1,000  miles  through  them,  jumping  from  branch  to  branch  and 
never  once  touching  the  ground.  They  are  so  thick  that  you 
could  not  possibly  go  from  one  place  to  another  except  by  the 
streams.  It  would  take  you  a day  with  an  axe  to  go  five 
miles,  the  country  about  here  being  so  very  wild.  It  is,  in  fact, 
one  of  the  least-known  parts  of  the  world,  and  Manaos,  the  me- 
tropolis, is  the  chief  city  of  a region  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
square  miles  in  extent. 

Manaos  is  on  the  Rio  Negro,  about  ten  miles  from  where  it 
flows  into  the  Amazon.  In  coming  up  the  Amazon,  as  we  ap- 
proached the  Rio  Negro  I could  see  where  the  two  rivers  united, 
without  lifting  my  eyes  from  the  water.  The  Rio  Negro  is  as 
black  as  one’s  hat;  the  Amazon  is  as  yellow  as  pea-soup.  For 
about  two  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  Negro  the  waters 
of  the  Rio  Negro  and  the  Amazon  flow  side  by  side  without 
mingling.  Our  steamer  for  a time  cut  the  joining  of  the  waters, 


580  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

so  that  on  one  side  of  the  ship  the  stream  was  as  tawny  as  a 
lion’s  mane,  while  on  the  other  it  had  the  panther  black  of  the 
Rio  Negro.  A little  below  this  the  two  colours  disappeared,  the 
waters  of  the  Rio  Negro  having  been  swallowed  up  in  the  mighty 
flood  of  the  Amazon. 

As  we  steamed  on  we  passed  out  of  the  Amazon  into  the 
wide  mouth  of  the  Rio  Negro.  We  were  now  sailing  through  a 
jet  black  stream:  our  steamer  churned  the  water  into  foam  and 


THE  THEATRE,  PARA 


it  looked  like  boiling  black  molasses.  A sailor  dropped  a bucket 
over  the  side,  and  caught  up  a gallon  for  me  to  examine;  in  the 
bucket  it  looked  brown,  but  when  I took  it  up  in  a glass  it 
seemed  almost  clear. 

The  Rio  Negro  is  an  immense  stream.  It  is  very  wide  at  its 
mouth,  and  at  first  sight  it  seems  almost  as  large  as  the  Amazon 
itself.  It  drains  a vast  region,  and,  as  I have  said,  is  so  con- 
nected with  the  Orinoco  by  the  Cassiquiare  river  that  you  can 
enter  the  Orinoco  at  its  mouth  and  sail  down  through  it  to  the 


THE  GREAT  CITIES  OF  THE  AMAZON  581 

Rio  Negro  and  the  Amazon.  As  it  nears  the  Amazon,  the  Rio 
Negro  increases  in  size.  A large  part  of  its  lower  course  is  a 
succession  of  lakes,  some  of  which  are  from  20  to  30  miles  wide. 
Its  flow  is  not  very  rapid,  and  its  ordinary  depth  is  from  100  to 
150  feet.  It  has  numerous  sand-bars,  which  hinder  navigation  at 
low  water,  but  during  the  rainy  season  it  rises  30  or  40  feet  and 
floods  a large  part  of  its  basin.  At  its  mouth  there  are  high 
bluffs  lining  the  banks;  these  are  dotted  with  cocao  plantations, 
back  of  which  are  dense  forests.  There  are  numerous  palm  trees, 
and  among  them  now  and  then  a thatched  hut  upon  piles. 

A little  farther  on,  upon  a hill  on  the  north  bank,  is  the  city 
of  Manaos.  The  town  slopes  up  from  the  river,  covering  the 
hills  at  the  back,  and  from  the  steamer  it  looks  like  a large 
city.  At  first  you  see  only  a maze  of  white-coloured  one-  and 
two-story  buildings,  roofed  with  red-brick  tiles.  As  you  come 
closer,  the  houses  near  the  wharves  grow  under  your  eyes  until 
you  realize  that  they  are  large  business  establishments.  You  see 
many  fine  buildings,  and  out  of  the  mass  notice  a structure  some- 
what like  the  Pension  Building  at  Washington,  which  is  topped 
with  a great  dome,  covered  with  porcelain  tiles.  That  is  the 
theatre  of  Manaos.  It  will  seat  2,000  people,  and  it  is  finer  than 
many  of  the  so-called  good  theatres  of  the  United  States.  The 
theatre  is  partially  supported  by  the  government,  and  troupes 
are  brought  here  from  Para  and  other  Brazilian  ports.  It  is  not 
a one-night  stand,  for  it  takes  2,000  miles  to  get  to  and  from 
it,  so  that  the  troupes  usually  stay  a week  or  more.  With  us 
came  an  American  circus,  which  has  a guarantee  from  the  gov- 
ernment for  entertaining  the  people  for  a month  in  Manaos. 

Manaos  is  an  ocean  port  1,000  miles  inland  from  the  Atlantic. 
Suppose  that  a big  Atlantic  liner  could  sail  across  the  United 
States  to  Chicago,  and  you  have  about  the  situation  of  Manaos 
in  respect  to  the  sea.  The  steamer  I came  on  drew  sixteen  feet; 
it  was  an  English  ship  which  had  come  from  New  York  to  Para, 
thence  to  Manaos;  its  time  from  New  York  to  Manaos  is  about 
two  weeks;  I asked  as  to  the  fare  and  was  told  that  it  was  $90 
in  gold. 

There  are  steamers  here  from  Lisbon,  Liverpool,  and  Ham- 
burg. There  are  two  lines  of  ships  from  New  York,  and  there 
are  small  steamers  which  go  in  seven  days  from  here  to  Iquitos, 
Peru.  Iquitos  is  about  1,300  miles  west  of  Manaos.  It  is  a 
S.  A.— 37 


582  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

large  town,  and  is  a great  port  for  rubber.  The  fare  to  Iquitos 
is  $30,  and  the  time  consumed  in  the  passage  is  seven  days;  so 
that  in  three  weeks,  if  you  make  the  proper  connections,  you  can 
go  from  New  York  more  than  2,000  miles  up  the  Amazon  by 
steamer. 

There  are  also  vessels  here  which  go  up  the  Rio  Negro,  the 
Rio  Branco,  and  the  Madeira,  so  that  you  can  readily  reach  any 
part  of  the  upper  Amazon  region.  Among  the  leading  steamship 
companies  is  the  Amazon  Steam  Navigation  Company,  which 
was  founded  by  English  capitalists  in  1853.  Its  steamers  are  of 
about  500  tons  and  were  built  in  England  for  this  trade.  There 
are  29  of  them,  and  they  cover  altogether  about  half-a-million 
miles  of  travel  every  year.  In  addition  to  these  there  is  the 
Brazilian  line,  which  has  12  steamers,  aggregating  about  13,000 
of  a total  tonnage. 

The  population  of  Manaos  is  about  50,000,  composed  of  Port- 
uguese and  Brazilians,  with  a few  English,  Germans,  and  Ameri- 
cans. The  chief  business  of  the  town  is  as  a supply-point  for  the 
rubber  camps  farther  up  the  Amazon  valley.  It  has  many  large 
stores,  whose  stock-values  run  into  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars.  The  merchants  furnish  goods  to  the  rubber  camps  and 
take  rubber  in  return. 

Manaos,  notwithstanding  its  situation,  has  more  modern  im- 
provements than  most  other  cities  in  Brazil.  Its  streets  are  paved 
with  cobblestones  brought  over  1,000  miles  down  the  Amazon. 
It  has  a cathedral,  a museum,  a college,  and  an  orphan  asylum. 
It  has  electric  lights  and  a telephone  system,  with  225  sub- 
scribers; and  an  American  syndicate  is  already  putting  in  an 
electric  street-car  line. 


CHAPTER  LIX 


IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS 
A visit  to  the  Rubber  forests,  and  a description  of  how  the  Trees  are 

TAPPED  FOR  THE  MARKETS  — How  RUBBER  IS  MADE  — WHO  OWN  THE 

Trees  — Something  about  the  Rubber  Slaves  of  the  upper  Amazon  — 

The  Cost  of  Rubber,  and  how  I made  an  ounce  at  a cost  of  $ioo. 

s is  the  India-rubber  age,  and  the  Amazon  is  its  main- 
spring. Down  its  turbid  waters  floats  the  elastic  mate- 
rial that  ties  the  world  together.  Amazon  rubber  is  the 
best  of  all  rubber;  it  furnishes  the  bulk  of  the  product,  and  the 
nations  of  the  earth  pay  tribute  to  Para.  The  first  rubber  came 
from  India,  and  hence  the  product  was  named  India-rubber.  Its 
value  was  discovered  in  1736,  less  than  200  years  ago,  and  for 
80  years  thereafter  it  was  used  only  for  rubbing  out  pencil  marks. 
Then  Mackintosh,  in  1823,  invented  the  rubber  coat,  and  in  1843 
the  American  Goodyear  vulcanized  it  by  treating  it  with  sulphur. 
Other  inventions  followed,  and  to-day  there  is  hardly  an  industry 
or  an  art  in  which  it  has  not  a part. 

We  all  use  rubber  in  some  shape  or  other.  We  ride  upon  it 
in  our  carriages  or  cabs,  it  cushions  the  tires  of  our  bicycles,  and 
softens  the  seats  of  millions.  We  use  it  by  tons  to  protect  us 
from  the  rain.  One  New  England  factory  makes  30,000  pairs  of 
overshoes  per  day,  and  at  a recent  auction  in  Boston  4,000,000 
rubbers  were  sold.  Rubber  ties  together  our  papers;  it  upholds 
our  trousers  and  stockings.  There  are,  it  is  estimated,  20,000,000 
men  and  boys  in  the  United  States  who  use  elastic  suspenders, 
and  an  equal  number  of  the  other  sex  who  wear  garters  of  the 
same  material. 

I am  writing  this  chapter  in  Para,  the  port  whence  most  of 
the  rubber  product  of  the  Amazon  valley  is  shipped.  The  rub- 
ber territory  extends  all  along  the  Amazon  and  its  tributaries, 
comprising  an  area  one-third  the  size  of  the  United  States.  The 
best  trees  are  on  land  which  is  flooded  part  of  the  year,  and  most 

(583) 


584  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


of  them  near  the  streams,  the  highways  of  travel.  All  the  land 
is  private  property:  it  has  been  taken  up  by  some  one;  the  best 
of  it  is  controlled  by  large  companies,  and  much  is  owned  in 


RUBBER-TREE  TAPPING,  WITH  HATCHET 

big  tracts.  One  company,  The  Amazonas,  of  London,  for  in- 
stance, owns  90,000  acres  of  forests;  another,  The  English  Rub- 
ber Company,  has  182,000  acres,  including  300,000  rubber  trees; 
while  a third,  The  American  Rubber  Trust,  controls  many  camps. 


IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS 


5«5 

Some  of  the  companies  have  capitals  of  millions  and  all  are 
managed  after  modern  business  methods. 

There  are  also  smaller  companies  and  many  individuals  inter- 
ested in  rubber  gathering  and  selling.  Most  of  the  proprietors 
live  in  Para  and  Manaos;  indeed,  almost  the  whole  territory  is 
owned  by  these  cities,  the  men  and  companies  who  actually  do 
the  work  being  in  debt  and  subject  to  them.  Some  of  the  latter 
live  in  the  wilds  and  use  Indian  labour.  The  Indians  are  some- 
times practically  enslaved,  being  compelled  to  work  at  the  re- 
volver’s mouth.  The  question  of  labor  is  the  most  serious  of 
problems  in  the  rubber  districts.  The  lowlands,  where  the  rub- 
ber trees  grow,  are  malarious  and  otherwise  unhealthful.  Many  of 
the  white  workmen  die,  and  it  is  only  from  fear  of  their  masters 
that  some  of  those  of  the  Upper  Amazon  are  kept  at  work. 

It  is  rubber  which  has  built  up  Para,  founding  a great  busi- 
ness city  of  100,000  people  here  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amazon. 
The  people  have  grown  rich  by  dealing  in  rubber  and  in  sup- 
plying necessaries  to  the  camps.  The  State  itself  is  prosperous 
through  its  export  tax  of  25  cents  per  pound  on  all  rubber  ship- 
ments, and  it  is  from  this  tax  that  its  officials  wax  fat. 

You  cannot  be  long  in  Para  without  realizing  that  you  are  in 
the  midst  of  rubber-shippers.  The  exporting  parts  of  the  city 
smell  like  a smoke-house.  The  odour  is  from  the  rubber,  which 
is  smoked  in  preparing  it  for  market.  It  is  brought  in  boats 
from  the  camps  in  lumps  that  look  like  small  hams.  They  smell 
like  country-smoked  hams,  and  you  think  they  are  hams  until 
you  see  one  of  them  fall.  It  begins  to  bounce  up  and  down  as 
soon  as  it  touches  the  ground,  and  rolls  about  as  though  it  were 
a thing  of  life. 

If  you  follow  the  rubber  from  the  boats  to  the  warehouses, 
you  will  see  that  each  lump  is  carefully  weighed,  and  that  it  is 
cut  in  pieces  to  ascertain  that  it  is  solid  rubber  all  the  way 
through,  and  it  is  then  packed  up  in  pine  boxes  for  shipment. 
You  may  learn  that  each  box  contains  300  pounds  and  notice 
that  the  different  boxes  are  marked  for  New  York  or  Europe. 

If  you  really  wish  to  know,  however,  just  what  rubber  is  and 
how  it  is  made,  you  must  leave  the  cities  and  go  into  the  forests 
of  the  rubber  country  and  there  watch  the  men  as  they  gather  it 
from  the  trees.  This  is  what  T did,  making  a piece  of  market- 
able rubber  with  my  own  hands.  I can’t  say,  however,  that  the 


586  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 


experiment  was  a financial  success.  The  quantity  of  rubber  I 
made  was  not  over  an  ounce,  and  that  ounce  cost  me  $100  in 
gold,  or  at  the  rate  of  $1,600  per  pound.  It  was,  I venture  to 
say,  the  dearest  piece  of  rubber  ever  made. 

The  rubber  district  I visited  was  not  far  from  Para.  It  was 
on  one  of  the  islands  of  the  delta  of  the  Amazon.  I had  asked  my 
friends  to  show  me  a camp  at  which  I could  make  some  rubber 
in  order  that  I might  describe  just  how  it  is  done.  So  they 
hired  a steam  launch  and  fitted  it  out  with  provisions  for  a 
stay  of  two  days.  We  had  four  sailors  for  a crew,  and  for  the 
time  lived  very  well.  We  failed,  however,  to  fix  the  price  of  the 
launch  beforehand,  and  when  the  bill  was  handed  us  the  boat 
was  charged  for  by  the  hour,  the  total  sum  amounting  to  700,- 
000  reis,  or  a little  more  than  $100  in  gold! 

We  left  Para  in  the  evening,  and  were  all  night  steaming  up 
the  Amazon.  Our  hammocks  were  slung  to  the  roof  of  the  boat, 
and  we  lay  in  our  pajamas  out  in  the  open.  The  air  was  de- 
lightfully soft  and  just  cool  enough  for  comfort.  The  moon  was 
full  and  the  equatorial  heavens  were  dotted  with  stars.  Early 
next  morning  we  landed  at  the  house  of  a rubber  planter.  Our 
host,  a yellow-skinned  man  of  about  fifty,  received  us  in  his  bare 
feet,  giving  us  seats  on  his  veranda  and  bringing  us  coffee  and 
bread  for  breakfast.  The  house  was  right  on  the  banks  of  the 
river.  It  was  a rambling  one-story  structure,  with  a tiled  roof 
surrounded  by  porches.  At  one  end  was  the  store-room,  contain- 
ing supplies  for  the  rubber  employes,  and  on  the  veranda  were 
piles  of  rubber  hams  smoked  and  ready  for  market.  After  break- 
fast we  walked  about  through  the  forest  and  watched  the  process 
of  rubber-gathering  and  smoking. 

But  first  let  me  tell  you  just  how  a rubber  tree  looks.  Many  of 
you  have  seen  in  hot  houses  the  plants  from  which,  as  is  popu- 
larly supposed,  our  rubber  comes.  In  this,  however,  you  are 
largely  mistaken,  for  the  rubber  plant,  with  its  thick,  glossy  green 
leaves,  which  you  have  seen,  is  that  which  produces  gutta  percha. 
It  is  nothing  like  the  great  tree  from  which  we  get  the  best 
rubber  of  commerce.  The  real  rubber  tree  is  not  unlike  many 
of  our  great  forest  trees.  You  might  travel  through  the  Amazon 
valley  and  unless  you  saw  the  rubber-hunters  at  work  you  would 
not  know  what  it  was.  It  looks  much  like  the  English  ash,  and 
grows  to  a height  of  more  than  60  feet.  Its  bark,  where  it  has 


IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS 


587 


not  become  black  by  tapping,  is  silver  gray.  The  trunk  of  the 
tree,  when  in  full-bearing,  is  about  as  big  around  as  a man’s 
waist.  Where  it  has  been  tapped,  it  often  swells  out  at  the  base, 
so  that  it  is  much  larger.  It  blossoms  in  August,  being  then 
covered  with  little  white  flowers.  It  is  a nut  tree,  and  in  De- 
cember and  January,  when  the  nuts  are  ripe,  the  shells  which  en- 
close them  burst  with  a noise  like  a firecracker,  throwing  the 
nuts  some  distance.  There  are  usually  so  many  nuts  on  a tree 
that  a man  could  gather  enough  in  a day  to  plant  100  acres 


GATHERING  SAP  FROM  RUBBER  TREE 


of  land.  The  trees  can  be  easily  grown  in  the  rich  soil,  and 
they  thrive  without  cultivation.  It  takes,  however,  from  15  to  20 
years  before  they  are  ready  for  tapping.  This  is  too  long  for 
the  ordinary  man  to  wait  on  the  Amazon,  and  at  present  the 
trees  that  produce  rubber  are  wild. 

The  rubber  comes  from  the  sap  of  the  tree.  The  tapping  is 
done  from  the  ground  up  to  as  high  as  a man  can  reach,  and 
sometimes  higher.  The  trees  are  not  bored  with  augers,  as  are  our 
maple  trees,  nor  are  they  scarred  like  the  turpentine  pine  trees  of 
our  Southern  States.  The  tapping  is  with  a tomahawk  or  hatchet, 


588  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

which  has  a blade  an  inch  wide.  The  rubber-gatherer  makes  a 
slight  gash  in  the  bark  with  this  hatchet,  just  deep  enough  to  go 
through  without  cutting  the  wood.  As  he  draws  out  the  hatchet, 
a milk-white  fluid  oozes  forth,  as  thin  as  milk.  This  is  much 
like  the  juice  of  the  milk-weed.  The  tapper  now  takes  a little 
cup  of  tin  or  clay,  about  as  big  as  an  after-dinner  coffee  cup, 
and  fits  it  into  another  cut  which  he  makes  below  the  gash,  so 
that  the  drops  of  milk  run  down  into  it.  He  makes  three  or 
four  similar  gashes  in  each  tree,  fitting  each  with  its  cup,  and 
then  goes  on  to  the  next.  He  continues  his  work  until  every 
tree  allotted  to  him  has  been  tapped. 

He  does  this  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  sap  flows  most 
freely.  By  noon  he  has  gone  again  from  tree  to  tree  and  emp- 
tied the  milk  from  the  cups  into  a gourd-like  bucket.  Each  cup 
will  have  a tablespoonful  or  so  of  milk;  and  if  for  his  morning’s 
work  he  gets  a gallon  of  the  fluid,  he  has  done  well.  The  milk 
flows  slower  and  slower  as  the  day  advances.  The  air  coagulates 
it,  and  after  a few  hours  the  sap  has  closed  the  wound. 

A rubber  tree  that  has  been  tapped  looks  like  a mass  of  fes- 
tering sores.  The  bark,  which  is  of  a smooth  and  beautiful  silver 
gray  where  it  has  not  been  touched,  becomes  scarred  and  warty 
by  the  wounds  of  the  hatchet.  As  the  wounds  close,  tears  of 
yellow  rubber  flow  down  on  the  bark  about  them.  These  tears 
are  pulled  out  after  the  cup  has  been  removed  and  sold  as  scrap 
or  second-grade  rubber,  bringing  from  20  to  50  per  cent  less 
than  the  rubber  gathered  in  the  cups,  which  can  be  properly 
cured.  I almost  neglected  to  say  where  the  rubber  trees  grow 
in  the  forests.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a rubber-grove  or  a 
rubber-forest.  The  trees  are  not  found  in  groups,  but  are  scat- 
tered among  the  other  trees,  so  that  you  often  have  to  go  long 
distances  from  rubber  tree  to  rubber  tree. 

The  forests  are  divided  into  paths,  of  from  60  to  100  rubber 
trees.  These  paths  lead  in  and  out  of  the  woods,  now  crossing 
streams  and  now  going  through  swamps,  until  all  the  trees  on 
them  have  been  reached.  Each  path  is  allotted  to  one  man,  who 
gashes  the  trees  and  gathers  the  rubber.  The  size  of  a planta- 
tion is  known  by  its  number  of  paths.  There  are  some  planta- 
tions that  contain  more  than  a thousand  paths.  It  was  along 
one  of  these  paths  that  we  went  from  tree  to  tree  gathering  rub- 
ber. I gashed  one  of  the  best-looking  trees  and  fastened  cups 


(589)  RUBBER-GATHERERS  ON  THE  UPPER  AMAZON 


IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS  59  I 

under  the  wounds.  Later  on  I gashed  others  and  in  due  time  I 
gathered  my  rubber  and  brought  it  back  to  the  house. 

The  next  process  is  the  smoking.  To  produce  the  best  rubber 
the  sap  must  be  smoked  the  day  it  is  gathered.  It  coagulates  on 


SMOKING  THE  RUBBER 


exposure  to  the  air,  but  hardens  best  under  the  influence  of 
smoke.  As  directed  by  the  rubber  employes,  I made  a fire  in  the 
corner  of  a shed  under  a little  clay  chimney.  The  fuel  was  palm 


592  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

nuts,  which,  when  lighted,  caused  a dense  smoke  to  pour  forth. 
The  chimney  was  just  about  as  high  as  my  knee;  so  high  that  I 
could  easily  hold  the  wooden  paddle  in  the  smoke  and  turn  it 
round  without  difficulty. 

Now  the  rubber  sap  which  I had  gathered  was  poured  into  a 
bowl,  much  like  one  used  by  a cook  to  knead  bread.  The  sap 
looked  just  like  milk,  and  was  of  about  the  same  thickness.  Into 
the  bowl  I thrust  the  end  of  the  paddle.  It  came  out  coated 
with  milk.  I held  it  in  the  smoke,  turning  it  rapidly,  and  in 
about  a minute  the  rubber  had  hardened  upon  it.  I then  thrust 


BALL  OF  RUBBER 


it  into  the  bowl  again  for  a fresh  coat  of  milk,  hardened  this  in 
the  smoke  in  the  same  way,  and  so  went  on  until  I had  built  up 
layer  after  layer  of  sap  on  my  paddle. 

The  smoke  of  course  came  into  my  eyes,  and  I wept  almost 
as  many  tears  as  there  were  drops  of  rubber  sap  in  the  bowl. 
Finally,  having  made  a very  small  quantity,  I handed  the  job 
over  to  the  professionals.  They  continued  the  smoking  for  hours, 
and  in  the  end  had  one  of  the  rubber  hams  of  commerce  about 
the  paddle.  This  was  now  cut  open  with  a knife  and  the  paddle 
taken  out.  From  the  cut  part  I could  easily  see  the  layers  made 


IN  THE  INDIA-RUBBER  CAMPS 


593 


by  the  smoking.  It  looked  much  like  cheese.  In  the  smoking, 
the  rubber  had  lost  its  beautiful  white  and  become  yellow  and 
brown.  It  looked  greasy,  and  was,  as  I have  already  said,  of  the 
shape  and  smell  of  a four-pound  ham. 

When  we  left  for  Para  we  took  about  $500  worth  of  these 
rubber  hams  with  us.  They  were  cut  up  and  weighed  at  one  of 
the  warehouses,  and  by  the  time  this  account  is  published  will, 
no  doubt,  have  gone  into  the  different  forms  into  which  rubber 
is  used  over  the  world. 

I have  made  inquiries  in  various  parts  of  the  Amazon  valley 
whether  its  rubber  supply  will  soon  be  exhausted.  Those  best  in- 
formed say  that  there  is  no  reason  for  alarm.  The  trees  are 
now  scrupulously  cared  for,  and  every  tree,  if  not  abused,  will 
produce  milk  in  abundance  for  thirty  or  forty  years.  Rubber 
trees  can  be  grown;  already  there  are  plans  devised  for  rubber 
plantations,  to  be  owned  by  large  companies,  and  to  be  planted 
and  cared  for  as  long-time  investments.  It  takes  from  15  to  20 
years  after  the  planting  before  the  trees  will  produce  enough  sap 
to  pay  for  gathering  it,  but  the  cost  of  cultivation  is  small,  and 
once  in  bearing  the  trees  will  continue  to  produce  sap  for  many 
years. 


CHAPTER  LX 


BRAZIL  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES 

Chances  for  American  Capital  — The  Banks,  and  their  enormous  Profits 
— Railroads  that  Pay — Cold-Storage  Plants  — Steamship  Companies 

THAT  DISCRIMINATE  AGAINST  OUR  TRADE. 

uring  my  travels  in  Brazil,  covering  8,000  miles,  and  in- 
cluding all  the  chief  industrial  centres,  I have  investi- 
gated the  trade  conditions  and  the  chances  for  the 
investment  of  American  capital.  The  country  seems  to  me  to  be 
in  the  infancy  of  its  development.  It  will  some  day  support  a 
hundred  people  where  it  now  supports  one;  it  will  be  one  of  the 
richest  countries  in  the  world  and  it  will  pay  Uncle  Sam  to  cul- 
tivate it  and  to  insist  that  he  get  his  rights  in  it  as  one  of  the 
great  world-traders.  Brazil  has  a territory  almost  as  large  as  the 
United  States,  and  one  which  includes  more  cultivable  land.  It 
contains  more  than  half  the  people  who  live  in  South  America;  its 
population,  moreover,  is  increasing,  and  it  is  steadily  growing  as 
a goods-consumer.  At  present,  its  exports  are  $25,000,000  more 
than  its  imports,  while  its  imports  figure  up  the  respectable  sum 
of  $100,000,000  per  annum. 

The  United  States  takes  about  half  of  all  that  Brazil  has  to 
sell.  We  buy  most  of  her  coffee,  and  tens  of  millions  of  dollars’ 
worth  of  her  rubber.  We  get  but  little  in  exchange.  Our  ex- 
ports to  Brazil  are  only  about  one-fifth  our  imports,  and  we  pay 
her  a balance  of  about  $48,000,000  a year.  If  we  should  stop 
buying,  the  officials  of  some  of  the  best  States  would  go  hungry. 
Para  would  have  a famine,  and  Sao  Paulo  would  have  to  (<  patch 
its  pantaloons. >>  The  officials  of  those  provinces  rely  on  the  rev- 
enues from  the  export  business.  These  are  enormous,  amount- 
ing to  25  cents  a pound  on  rubber,  at  the  present  rate  of  impost, 
and  11  per  cent  on  the  export  value  of  coffee.  The  duties 
are  of  course  paid  by  the  consumer,  so  that  every  American  who 
rides  a rubber-tired  bicycle  has  had  to  pay  25  per  cent  into  the 
(594) 


BRAZIL  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES 


595 


treasuries  of  Para  and  Manaos,  and  everyone  who  drinks  a cup 
of  coffee  adds  thereby  to  the  support  of  the  government  of  the 
coffee-growing  States  of  Brazil. 

One  would  think  that  Brazil  ought  to  be  grateful  for  this 
enormous  trade;  she  may  be  so,  but  she  has  a curious  way  of 
showing  it.  She  imposes  a tariff  on  everything  we  sell  to  her, 
taxing  us  on  some  articles  as  much  as  ioo  per  cent.  At  times 
she  makes  with  us  what  are  called  reciprocity  treaties.  Some  of 
our  goods  go  in  nominally  free,  but  indirectly  every  ship  carry- 
ing American  goods  that  comes  to  Brazil  has  to  pay  toll.  In 
most  of  the  harbours  there  is  what  is  called  expediente  taxes, 
which  are  levies  made  on  some  excuse  or  other.  At  Bahia  the 
officials  will  ask  the  ships  to  pay  so  much  for  a new  hospital;  at 
Pernambuco  they  want  something  for  a sailors’  home;  and  at  Rio 
they  may  blackmail  the  ships  for  harbour  improvements.  These 
taxes  are  levied,  not  by  law,  but  according  to  the  ideas  and  tastes 
of  the  local  officials.  They  are  really  a sort  of  blackmail,  the  prob- 
ability being  that  most  of  the  money  goes  into  the  pockets  of 
the  collectors.  <(  In  fact,”  said  a leading  railroad  official  to  me 
the  other  day,  <(  every  one  down  here  seems  to  be  lying  awake  at 
night  to  plan  how  he  can  squeeze  a few  milreis  out  of  the  for- 
eigner without  working  for  them.”  Every  man  who  goes  into 
business  here  must  expect  to  pay  a tax  for  the  privilege.  Every 
merchant  and  mechanic  in  Rio  is  taxed.  The  bootblack  pays  for 
the  right  to  blacken  one’s  shoes.  Every  store  pays  for  the  privi- 
lege of  opening  its  doors,  and  every  contract,  note,  and  check 
must  bear  its  stamp. 

The  Brazilians,  I find,  are  rapidly  adopting  electricity.  There 
are  towns  of  from  10,000  to  15,000  in  southern  Brazil  equipped 
with  electric  lights.  The  city  of  Sao  Paulo,  which  has  about 
200,000  population,  is  well-equipped  in  this  respect.  There  is  a 
good  electric  light  system  in  Para,  although  the  poles  are  placed 
in  the  centre  of  the  sidewalks ; I also  found  Brush  arc  lights 
used  in  Manaos,  1,000  miles  up  the  Amazon. 

At  present  nearly  all  the  railroads  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  are 
moved  by  horse-  or  mule-power.  The  electrical  franchises  would 
be  worth  a great  deal.  The  city  is  surrounded  by  suburbs,  and 
the  Brazilians,  who  are  a lazy  people,  would  patronize  the  electric 
railroads.  Sao  Paulo  has  horse-cars.  Para  is  arranging  for  an 
electric  railroad,  although  the  street-cars  are  still  hauled  by 


596  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

mules.  Manaos  has  about  completed  an  electric  railroad,  which 
is  owned  by  an  American  firm.  Bahia  (200,000)  still  relies  upon 
horse-cars,  although  the  Germans  are  manoeuvring  to  get  hold  of 
the  electric  railway  franchises. 

I am  told  that  a large  German  syndicate  has  agents  going  about 
through  Brazil,  picking  up  everything  good  in  the  way  of  elec- 
tricity. Already  they  have  their  hands  to  a certain  extent  on 
Rio,  having  built  there  the  Villa  Isabella  tramway,  with  the  idea 
of  equipping  it  electrically.  They  have  secured  roads  in  Sao 
Paulo  and  are  negotiating  for  roads  in  Pernambuco.  Pernambuco 
is  flat  and  car-lines  could  be  operated  without  much  power.  The 
street-car  rates  are  lower,  however,  than  they  are  with  us.  The 
fares  are  from  one  and  one-half  cents  to  three  cents  a trip.  At 
the  same  time  labour  is  very  cheap,  and  most  of  the  lines  are 
operated  at  a profit.  Brazil  is  growing  fast  as  to  its  railroads. 
It  now  has  about  9,000  miles  of  track,  and  there  is  a like  extent 
of  mileage  under  survey  or  construction.  The  English  own  the 
best  of  the  properties,  and  they  are  endeavouring  to  get  hold  of 
others. 

At  present  the  government  has  about  3,000  miles  of  lines,  but 
they  are  poorly  administered  and  do  not  pay.  I doubt,  indeed, 
if  any  business  managed  by  a South  American  government  can 
ever  pay,  as  every  official  expects  to  make  a squeeze  or  a per- 
centage out  of  all  the  money  that  comes  into  his  hands.  The 
losses  have  been  so  great  that  a law  has  been  recently  passed 
authorizing  the  leasing  of  the  government  railroads,  and  it  is 
probable  that  they  will  eventually  go  into  the  hands  of  English 
capitalists.  Most  of  the  Brazilian  railways  have  been  constructed 
under  a guarantee  from  the  government  of  from  6 to  7 per  cent 
on  the  capital  invested,  and  many  of  them  are  now  working  on 
that  basis. 

One  of  the  most  profitable  roads  in  the  world  is  that  which 
runs  up  the  mountains  from  Santos  to  Jundiahy.  This  road  has 
paid  as  much  as  50  per  cent  dividends,  and  for  years  it  paid  10 
per  cent  semi-annually.  The  road  was  first  built  with  a govern- 
ment guarantee  of  5 per  cent.  It  had  a capital  of  $10,000,000, 
which  it  soon  increased  to  $15,000,000,  and  it  has  since  made  its 
capital  $28,000,000.  It  is  now  paralleling  its  lines  in  order  to  ac- 
commodate the  enormous  business  that  goes  over  it.  It  is  the 
only  connection  which  Santos  has  with  the  interior,  and  the  enor- 


<(  THE  BEST  PAYING  RAILROAD  IN  SOUTH  AMERICA » 


BRAZIL  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES 


599 


mous  coffee  shipments  which  go  out  from  that  port  are  brought 
from  the  plantations  over  this  railroad.  The  trade  of  Santos 
amounts  to  $75,000,000  a year.  The  road  shoots  out  of  Santos 
to  the  foot  of  the  mountains;  here  the  locomotives  are  taken  off 
and  the  cars  are  dragged  up  the  hills  by  stationary  steam-engines, 
which  wind  and  unwind  immense  steel  wire  cables  to  which  the 
cars  are  attached. 

On  nearly  all  the  roads  of  Brazil  there  are  first-,  second-,  and 
third-class  cars.  Few  of  them  have  sleepers,  and  the  cars,  as 
a rule,  are  by  no  means  as  good  as  ours.  The  Brazilian  Cen- 
tral has  a Pullman  system,  so  that  you  can  go  from  Rio  de  Ja- 
neiro to  Sao  Paulo  by  sleeper.  Most  of  the  trains,  however,  have 
only  day  coaches.  The  charges  for  baggage  are  very  heavy.  My 
trunks  have  usually  cost  me  more  than  my  railroad  ticket.  Noth- 
ing but  a single  handbag  is  allowed  to  be  taken  into  the  car- 
riages. The  man  who  brings  more  is  not  permitted  to  pass 
through  the  gates  until  he  has  handed  it  over  to  the  express  and 
baggage  men;  this  is  very  inconvenient,  especially  as  no  baggage 
that  looks  at  all  fragile,  or  that  is  not  carefully  wrapped,  can  be 
checked. 

We  should  have  a line  of  steamships  from  New  York  to  Rio 
de  Janeiro  and  other  ports  on  the  east  coast  of  South  America. 
It  is  along  this  coast  that  most  of  our  trade  exists  with  South 
America,  and  the  trade  amounts  to  much  more  than  $100,000,- 
000  a year.  On  nearly  every  dollar  of  it  we  must  pay  a percent- 
age to  the  European  steamships  for  freighting  the  goods.  These 
European  companies  discriminate  against  American  shippers. 
Indeed,  a number  of  them  have  combined  against  the  United 
States  to  drive  some  of  the  steamers  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic 
out  of  the  Brazilian  market.  They  formed  a trust  not  long  ago 
and  reduced  the  freight  rates  on  coffee  to  about  10  cents  a bag. 
When  they  had  succeeded  and  had  the  field  to  themselves,  they 
again  raised  the  rate  to  30  cents  a bag.  This  same  combination 
charges  a higher  rate  on  all  shipments  of  goods  from  New  York 
to  Brazil  than  it  does  from  the  European  ports  to  Brazil.  Some 
of  the  commission  merchants  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  find  it  more  pro- 
fitable to  ship  flour  from  New  York  to  Rio  by  way  of  Hamburg, 
taking  it  over  3,000  miles  of  additional  ocean  travel,  and  thereby 
getting  a lower  rate. 


600  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

Consul-General  Seegar  states  that  one  of  the  leading  agricul- 
tural houses  of  Sao  Paulo  is  forced  to  buy  its  iron  in  Europe,  al- 
though the  prices  offered  by  American  houses  are  lower.  This 
is  on  account  of  the  heavy  freight  rates  from  New  York.  Flour 
carried  from  New  York  to  Rio  pays  a freight  rate  of  85  cents 
per  barrel,  while  flour  from  Hamburg  to  Rio  pays  less  than  70 
cents  per  barrel.  This  system  is  applied  to  all  sorts  of  importa- 
tion, and  the  same  spirit  enters  into  all  phases  of  European  com- 
petition with  the  United  States.  The  English  and  the  Germans 
are  intensely  jealous  of  the  United  States;  they  fear  us  com- 
mercially, and  oppose  us  at  every  step.  The  competition  of  the 
Germans  is  often  by  unfair  methods;  they  will  imitate  our  trade- 
marks and  goods,  and  often  make  misrepresentations  to  increase 
their  business. 

To-day  the  Germans,  on  the  other  hand,  are  the  best  traders 
in  South  America.  They  are  pushing  their  way  into  every  port, 
and  their  merchants  are  to  be  found  in  every  town.  From 
Kaiser  Wilhelm  down  they  are  doing  all  they  can  to  further  the 
trade  interests  of  their  country,  and  are  succeeding.  I have 
written  how  they  have  absorbed  the  trade  of  the  lower  provinces 
of  Brazil.  I find  them  in  business  here  at  Para.  They  own  rub- 
ber plantations  up  the  Amazon,  and  have  their  mercantile  houses 
on  the  frontiers  of  Ecuador  and  Bolivia.  They  are  also  doing 
quite  a good  deal  in  banking;  they  have  one  bank  in  Brazil, 
which  has  a capital  of  more  than  $2,000,000,  and  another  in  Ar- 
gentina with  a capital  of  $4,000,000,  while  there  is  a third  in 
Chile  whose  capital  is  equal  to  that  of  the  Brazilian  bank.  I am 
told  that  they  have  been  buying  nitrate  property  in  Chile  re- 
cently, and  that  they  have  put  a great  deal  of  money  into  rail- 
roads in  Venezuela.  There  is  no  end,  moreover,  to  the  small 
German  enterprises.  You  find  coffee-houses  here  run  by  them; 
they  have  breweries  scattered  from  one  end  of  South  America  to 
the  other,  and  the  big  tanning  interests  of  southern  Chile  be- 
long to  them.  They  are  by  far  the  most  active  exploiters  with 
regard  to  opening  commercial  houses  in  new  centres.  I found 
them  selling  goods  in  interior  Bolivia  and  in  the  mountains  of 
Peru,  and  have  yet  to  find  a city  which  the  German  drummers 
do  not  visit.  These  drummers  usually  speak  Portuguese  or  Span- 
ish. They  have  spent  years  in  South  America,  and  know  the 


BRAZIL  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES 


6oi 


people  and  trade  thoroughly.  They  take  things  easily  and  are 
content  with  small  profits.  They  give  from  six  to  nine  months 
credit,  and  ask  for  no  payment  until  after  receipt  of  the  goods. 

There  are  a number  of  financial  investments  down  here  worthy 
of  investigation.  The  matter  of  an  American  bank  is  one.  Our 
trade  with  Brazil  annually  amounts  to  more  than  $100,000,000, 
and  almost  the  whole  of  it  is  done  in  European  exchange.  An 
American  bank  at  Rio  de  Janeiro  with  branches  at  Sao  Paulo, 
Santos,  Bahia,  Pernambuco,  Para,  and  Manaos  could  make  much 
money.  Interest  rates  range  from  ten  per  cent  upward ; you  can 
get  good  loans  at  one  per  cent  a month  and  one  and  one-half, 
and  two  per  cent  are  not  uncommon.  The  banks  charge  for 
everything;  discount  rates  are  high,  and  all  of  the  European 
banks,  so  far  as  I can  learn,  are  making  profitable  returns. 

It  would  seem  to  me  that  a fortune  might  be  made  by  a cold- 
storage  company  which  should  put  up  plants  in  the  larger  cities. 
None  of  the  Brazilian  towns  have  cold-storage  houses,  and  meat 
and  other  things  cannot  be  kept  from  one  day  to  another.  I have 
already  referred  to  Pernambuco  which  has  200,000  people.  The 
meat  sold  in  the  market  must  be  eaten  the  day  it  is  killed ; it 
must  be  sold  before  it  begins  to  spoil,  else  the  market  inspectors 
will  condemn  it;  the  result  is  that  the  price  changes  from  hour 
to  hour  during  the  day.  When  the  market  opens  you  will  see 
over  each  butcher’s  stall  a little  slate  on  which  is  marked  the 
price  of  meat.  As  the  day  wears  on  the  butcher  rubs  out  the 
figures  and  changes  the  prices,  so  that  meat  which  is  worth  8 
cents  a pound  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning  is  offered  for  4 
cents  a pound  at  noon.  Indeed,  dried  beef  in  the  market  brings 
more  per  pound  than  fresh  meat.  If  there  were  a cold-storage 
plant  the  meat  could  be  kept  as  long  as  desired,  and  vegetables, 
eggs,  and  fruit  could  be  stored  away  to  await  higher  prices. 

There  are  a number  of  other  opportunities  here  for  the  in- 
vestment of  capital  and  good  business  brains.  Brazil  as  a coun- 
try has  hardly  been  prospected,  and  there  are  vast  regions  which 
are  yet  to  be  explored.  There  is  only  one  thing  that  the  inves- 
tor must  consider,  and  that  is  that  it  is  not  safe  to  risk  any 
money  in  South  American  soil  unless  he  or  his  agent  has  been 
long  enough  on  the  ground  to  understand  the  local  conditions. 

With  my  travels  in  the  Amazon  valley  I closed  my  tour  of 
South  America,  taking  passage  at  Para  on  a cargo  steamer  loaded 


602  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

with  rubber  for  New  York.  The  journey  was  a pleasant  sea  trip 
of  twelve  days  and  was  made  at  a cost  of  $90.  My  South  Amer- 
ican tour  from  New  York  and  return,  including  the  many  interior 
trips  which  I made,  has  covered  more  than  25,000  miles  of  travel. 
It  has  been  made  without  great  hardships,  although  not  free 
from  annoyances  and  delays.  The  expenses  at  times  have  been 
heavy,  and  at  other  times  comparatively  light,  averaging  for  the 
whole  tour  a little  less  than  $10  gold  a day. 

The  time  spent  in  making  the  journey  has  been  about  one 
year,  during  which  I have  visited  every  South  American  country, 
save  Venezuela  and  the  Guianas.  Venezuela  is  a republic,  and 
it  is  interesting  to  our  people  as  a centre  of  trade  and  a land  of 
resources  and  great  possibilities.  The  information  concerning  it 
found  in  the  following  chapters  is  from  data  furnished  the  State 
Department  at  Washington  by  prominent  Venezuelians  whom  I 
met  on  my  travels,  and  from  the  latest  reports  and  researches  of 
authentic  source.  The  Guianas  have  been  treated  in  the  same 
way,  my  idea  being  to  give  a practical  view  of  these  countries, 
thus  covering  the  short  gap  in  my  tour  and  making  the  book  as 
nearly  as  I can  a complete  view  of  the  South  American  Conti- 
nent. 


CHAPTER  LXI 


IN  THE  GUI  ANAS 

Where  the  Guianas  are,  and  what  they  are  — Their  wild  Lands,  and 

THEIR  SAVAGE  INDIANS  AND  BUSH  NEGROES BRITISH  GUIANA,  AND  ITS 

mixed  Population  — A land  of  Hindus,  Chinese,  and  Negroes  — Its 
rich  Sugar  plantations,  and  how  they  are  Managed — Dutch  Gui- 
ana, THE  LITTLE  HOLLAND  OF  SOUTH  AMERICA FRENCH  GuIANA,  AND 

its  Penal  Colony  — A look  at  Georgetown,  Paramaribo,  and  Cayenne. 

he  Guianas  are  different  from  the  other  countries  of  South 
America  in  that  they  are  colonial  possessions  of  Euro- 
pean Powers.  British  Guiana  belongs  to  Great  Britain, 
Dutch  Guiana  is  owned  by  Holland,  and  French  Guiana  is  gov- 
erned by  France.  These  three  countries  lie  in  the  northeastern 
part  of  South  America,  and  are  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  At- 
lantic, on  the  east  by  the  valley  of  the  Orinoco,  and  on  the  south 
by  the  valley  of  the  Amazon.  Just  where  their  boundaries  end 
and  where  they  begin  is  not  settled.  Each  country  claims  more 
than  Brazil  or  Venezuela  grants  to  it;  altogether  more  than  ioo,- 
ooo  miles  are  in  dispute.  Including  the  disputed  territory  the  total 
area  of  the  region  is  about  as  great  as  that  of  Texas,  of  which 
British  Guiana  forms  the  larger  part.  None  of  the  countries 
has  been  much  explored.  The  only  civilized  parts  are  in  the 
valleys  of  the  rivers  and  along  the  coast,  where  the  lands  are 
low. 

Most  of  the  country  is  part  of  a great  uplifted  section  of 
northeastern  South  America;  so  bounded  by  the  Amazon,  the 
Orinoco,  the  Rio  Negro,  and  the  Atlantic  ocean  it  is  practically 
an  island.  It  is  not  so  for  practical  purposes,  however,  as  in 
these  rivers  are  falls  which  impede  navigation.  Much  of  the 
land  is  high,  and  not  a small  part  of  it  is  mountainous.  Some 
of  it  is  covered  with  forests,  and  other  parts  are  grassy  plains  or 
savannas,  dotted  here  and  there  with  clumps  of  trees.  These 
savannas  have  rich  pastures,  the  grass  being  pale  green  in  the 
rainy  season,  and  yellow  and  brown  in  summer.  On  them  cattle 

(603) 


604  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

can  be  fed  and  they  may  at  some  time  be  the  centre  of  a great 
stock-raising  industry. 

On  most  of  the  highlands  are  dense  woods.  There  are  trees 
along  every  stream,  so  that  the  prairie  fires  which  frequently 


NATIVE  OF  ORINOCO 


occur  are  never  widespread.  The  forests  are  especially  rich  in 
fine  woods.  The  Guianas  have  30  varieties  of  palms,  and  in 
French  Guiana  alone  there  are  260  different  species  of  trees. 
Among  others  are  those  which  produce  the  Brazil  nuts,  wild 
cacao  trees,  incense  trees,  and  trees  that  make  excellent  dye- 


IN  THE  GUIANAS  605 

woods.  One  tree  is  good  for  ship-building,  and  there  are  many 
woods  fitted  for  fine  furniture-making.  The  land  is  one  of  many 
flowers,  and  it  has  150  different  species  of  medicinal  plants. 

The  wild  regions  of  the  Guianas  are  inhabited  by  savage  In- 
dians and  negroes.  The  Indians  are  chiefly  Caribs,  of  different 
tribes,  who  live  by  hunting  and  fishing.  Among  them  are  wild 
negroes  who  fled  to  the  woods  at  the  abolition  of  slavery  and 
intermarried  with  the  Indians.  Other  negroes  settled  in  colonies 
along  the  banks  of  the  streams  and  became  agriculturists.  These 
are  known  as  bush  negroes.  They  are  semi-civilized,  and  some 
of  them  have  independent  settlements,  little  republics  of  their 
own.  They  have  farms  about  their  villages  where  they  raise 
produce  which  they  ship  down  the  rivers  and  sell  to  the  whites 
along  the  coast.  One  of  their  chief  businesses  is  wood-cutting. 
They  chop  down  the  large  forest  trees  for  cabinet  wood  and  lum- 
ber, and  float  them  down  the  river  to  the  sea.  These  negroes 
are  as  a rule  sober  and  hard-working.  Some  of  them  worship 
the  Ceiba  or  cotton  tree,  placing  food  at  its  foot.  In  many  of 
the  villages  the  citizens  have  equal  rights,  each  village  having  a 
head-man  or  governor  chosen  by  the  people. 

The  chief  interest  in  the  Guianas,  however,  lies  in  their  civi- 
lized colonies  Let  us  first  look  at  British  Guiana.  It  is  the  larg- 
est, most  prosperous,  and  most  civilized  of  all.  It  is  situated 
between  the  rivers  Corentyne,  which  separates  it  from  Dutch 
Guiana,  and  the  Essequibo,  which  separates  it  from  Venezuela. 
It  is,  as  claimed  by  the  British,  of  about  the  size  of  California. 
This,  however,  includes  the  land  claimed  by  Venezuela.  The 
settled  region  is  on  the  rich  lands  along  the  coast  and  in  the 
river  valleys.  The  soil  of  these  regions  is  exceedingly  rich,  being 
annually  added  to  by  the  earth-washings  of  the  mountains,  which 
are  held  in  by  a system  of  dykes.  The  land  is  especially  good 
for  sugar,  and  it  is  divided  up  into  great  plantations,  about  seven 
eighths  of  it  being  devoted  to  sugar-raising. 

Sugar-raising  is  the  chief  industry  of  British  Guiana.  Sugar 
comprises  five-sixths  of  its  exports,  and  90,000  people,  about  one- 
third  of  its  population,  are  employed  on  the  sugar  estates.  These 
estates  were  once  cultivated  by  slaves,  but  since  slavery  has  been 
abolished  they  have  been  worked  by  gangs  of  coolies  under  con- 
tract. One  estate  not  far  from  Georgetown,  for  instance,  'em- 
ploys 3,700  coolies,  and  others  have  on  them  still  larger  numbers. 


606  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

It  is  the  sugar  plantations  that  have  made  the  country  largely 
Asiatic.  There  are  less  than  3,000  Europeans  among  its  280,000 
population ; the  remainder  are  Asiatics  and  Africans  who  were 
brought  here  to  work  on  the  sugar  estates.  Over  100,000  of 
them  are  East  Indians,  4,000  are  Chinese,  and  99,000  are  negroes. 
The  labour  is  very  carefully  managed,  the  plantations  being  run 
on  strict  business  principles.  Some  of  them  have  a capital  of 
more  than  $1,000,000.  They  use  modern  machinery,  add  to  the 


HARVESTING  SUGAR  CANE  NEAR  CARACAS 

richness  of  the  land  by  fertilizers,  and  so  carefully  handle  the 
cane  that  16  out  of  the  17  per  cent  of  sugar  in  it  is  saved. 

The  leading  city,  and  in  fact  the  only  city  of  any  size  in 
British  Guiana,  is  Georgetown,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Demerara 
river.  The  town  runs  for  a mile  along  the  river,  with  villas 
scattered  over  the  plains  in  the  rear.  It  is  a flat  town  of  53,000 
people.  It  is  built  largely  of  wooden  houses,  with  a few  build- 
ings of  brick  and  stone.  Nearly  every  house  has  a wide  veranda 
in  front  of  it,  and  a wooden  or  iron  tank  beside  it  which  serves 


IN  THE  GUIANAS 


607 


as  a cistern.  The  houses  are  built  a little  back  from  the  broad 
streets  that  cross  one  another  at  right  angles.  The  streets  are 
macadamized;  many  of  them  have  sidewalks  of  asphalt  or  ce- 
ment; while  through  some  of  them  run  small  canals,  giving  the 
town  a fresh  and  clean  look. 

There  are  many  large  stores  and  fine  public  buildings;  in- 
deed, you  are  surprised  at  the  enterprise  and  culture  which  you 
see  about  you.  Georgetown  has  daily,  semi-weekly,  and  weekly 
newspapers.  It  has  a telephone  service  with  514  subscribers,  a 
public  library,  a museum,  and  a theatre  in  which  amateur  per- 
formances are  held.  Just  back  of  the  town  is  a botanical  garden 
containing  about  150  acres,  and  not  far  from  it  are  lawn  tennis 
courts  and  golf  grounds. 

The  excellence  of  the  British  colonial  system  is  everywhere  to 
be  seen.  There  are  efficient  police  and  good  courts.  The  ad- 
ministration consists  of  a governor  appointed  by  the  Queen,  who 
receives  a salary  of  $25,000  a year  and  has  an  allowance  of 
about  $12,000  for  expenses.  Then  there  is  a court  of  policy,  a 
sort  of  cabinet  of  the  government,  comprising  eighteen  men, 
eight  of  whom  are  elected  by  the  people.  There  is  also  what  is 
called  the  combined  court,  made  up  of  the  court  of  policy  and 

six  financial  representatives  elected  by  the  people.  The  com- 

bined court  is  a sort  of  ways  and  means  committee  which  votes 
supplies  and  passes  upon  expenditures. 

British  Guiana  has  39  miles  of  railroad.  It  has  450  miles  of 
river  navigation  and  42  telegraph  offices.  It  has  22  savings  banks 
and  does  a business  of  about  $14,000,000  a year,  the  exports 
being  greater  than  the  imports. 

Within  recent  years  not  only  British  Guiana,  but  also  Dutch 
and  French  Guiana  as  well,  have  become  prominent  as  gold 

producers.  In  1885  $16,000  worth  of  gold  was  exported  from 

Georgetown,  in  1897  the  exports  of  gold  amounted  to  more  than 
$2,500,000.  A remarkable  increase,  though  not  so  striking,  has 
taken  place  in  the  other  Guianas.  The  gold  so  far  as  discovered 
is  placer  gold,  the  camps  being  situated  along  the  different  rivers, 
but  the  miners  are  now  pushing  their  way  back  from  the  moun- 
tains and  prospecting  there  for  the  mother  lodes  of  quartz. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  this  territory  was  looked  upon  as  the 
richest  part  of  the  New  World.  It  was  in  the  Guianas  that  the 
famous  city,  El  Dorado,  was  supposed  to  be  located,  a city  which, 


608  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

in  the  words  of  Quesada,  one  of  the  accomplished  liars  of  that  age, 
was  situated  in  the  midst  of  a great  white  lake,  and  ruled  by  a 
king  who  wore  garments  sprinkled  with  gold  and  silver  from  his 
sandals  to  the  crown  of  his  head.  He  had  temples  far  grander 
than  the  palaces  of  the  Incas  and  the  Aztecs,  his  kitchen  utensils 
were  of  gold  and  silver  studded  with  diamonds  and  precious 
stones,  and  in  his  palace  were  statues  of  solid  gold  as  big  as 
giants,  and  birds,  fishes,  trees,  and  herbs  modelled  out  of  solid 
gold.  According  to  other  accounts,  El  Dorado  was  the  name  of 
an  Indian  chief  who  ruled  the  city  of  Manoa,  which  was  some- 
what similar  to  that  above  described.  El  Dorado  owned  vast 
quantities  of  gold  and  precious  stones;  he  had  so  much  gold  dust 
that  he  was  sprinkled  with  it  every  morning  by  his  slaves,  and 
at  a certain  time  every  year  he  was  smeared  with  balsam  and  gold 
dust,  after  which  he  bathed  in  the  lake,  in  which  was  then  thrown 
gold  and  precious  stones. 

Dutch  Guiana  lies  just  east  of  British  Guiana.  It  is  about  as 
large  as  the  State  of  New  York,  but  its  population  is  only  64,000. 
not  counting  the  negroes  of  the  forests.  The  country  is  ruled  by 
Holland,  which  has  to  furnish  some  money  every  year  to  aid  in 
paying  the  government  expenses.  It  has  a governor  who  is  ap- 
pointed for  six  years,  an  assembly  elected  by  the  people,  and  a 
good  system  of  courts.  The  laws  are  those  of  the  Netherlands, 
the  official  language  is  Dutch,  although  English  is  in  common 
use  in  the  larger  towns. 

Its  chief  city  is  Paramaribo,  situated  on  the  Surinam  river, 
about  20  miles  from  its  mouth.  Paramaribo  contains  about  30,000 
people.  It  is  built  on  a shell  reef,  and,  though  it  has  no  sewers, 
the  drainage  is  good.  It  extends  along  the  banks  of  the  river 
for  about  two  miles,  running  back  from  the  water  to  the  extent 
perhaps  of  half  a mile.  Its  houses  are  wooden,  painted  gray. 
They  are  of  two  and  three  stories,  having  sharply  pitched  roofs, 
out  of  which  little  dormer  windows  peep.  Nearly  every  house 
has  a green  door  and  a big  brass  knocker.  Everything  is  kept 
clean  and  the  place  reminds  you  of  one  of  the  little  towns  in 
Holland.  The  population  is  largely  composed  of  Javanese  and 
Creoles,  the  Javanese  having  been  brought  to  work  on  the  sugar 
plantations,  of  which  there  are  nine.  Cacao  is  another  industry 
much  engaged  in,  there  being  97  cacao  plantations,  which  pro- 
duce almost  $1,000,000  worth  of  cacao  a year.  The  transporta- 


IN  THE  G DIANAS 


609 


tion  of  the  colony  is  altogether  by  water,  there  being  no  railroads. 
The  steamers  of  the  Royal  Mail  leave  Paramaribo  every  three 
weeks  for  New  York,  and  return  from  New  York  every  three 
weeks  for  Paramaribo.  They  come  from  Amsterdam  and  return 
there  via  the  West  Indian  ports. 

French  Guiana  amounts  to  even  less  than  Dutch  Guiana.  It 
is  merely  a convict  colony,  having  little  trade  and  almost  no  in- 
dustry. The  country  imports  more  than  it  exports,  and  its  cli- 
mate is  so  unhealthy  that  those  who  visit  it  are  always  anxious 
to  leave.  The  chief  city  and  capital  is  Cayenne,  a town  of 
12,000,  comprising  about  half  the  population  of  the  whole  country. 
The  town  is  on  an  island,  30  miles  in  circumference,  in  the  At- 
lantic, at  the  mouth  of  the  Cayenne  river,  close  to  the  coast.  It 
has  a wide  and  safe  bay,  the  island  being  separated  from  the 
coast  by  a narrow  channel.  Cayenne  is  made  up  of  little  two- 
story  houses,  some  of  which  are  of  brick  covered  with  stucco. 
All  are  painted  in  bright  colours,  and  with  their  little  dormer 
windows  looking  out  of  the  roofs  appear  clean  and  pretty.  The 
streets  of  Cayenne  cross  one  another  at  right  angles.  They  are 
lighted  at  night  by  oil-lamps  and  are  paraded  daily  by  the  vul- 
tures, the  street-cleaning  brigade  of  the  city.  The  stores  are 
chiefly  in  the  hands  of  Chinese  or  Annamese,  who  give  an  Asi- 
atic air  to  the  town,  and  who,  with  the  Creole  women,  in  white 
turbans  and  gowns,  form  the  most  striking  class  of  the  inhabit- 
ants. There  are  about  50  wholesale  and  120  retail  merchants. 
There  is  a weekly  newspaper,  issued  by  the  government. 

The  trade  of  the  United  States  with  the  Guianas  is  not  a 
great  factor  in  our  commerce.  The  total  imports  of  the  three 
countries  is  only  a little  over  $10,000,000  per  annum,  of  which 
British  Guiana  imports  $6,000,000,  Dutch  Guiana  $2,000,000,  and 
French  Guiana  about  the  same.  At  present  our  chief  trade  is 
with  British  Guiana,  where  we  send  one-fourth  of  our  imports; 
we  have  1 7 per  cent  of  the  imports  of  Dutch  Guiana,  and  only  6 
per  cent  of  those  of  French  Guiana. 


CHAPTER  LXII 


VENEZUELA , AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN 

An  enormous  Country  of  great  Possibilities  — How  Named  — Its  sugar 
Lands  and  cacao  Orchards  — Its  Coffee,  which  we  drink  as  Mocha 
— The  Orinoco,  and  its  vast  Pastures  — How  the  Llanos  look  — 
The  Gold  Regions  — Lake  Maracaibo  — CarAcas,  the  National  Cap- 
ital. 

enezuela  is  yearly  coming  closer  to  the  United  States; 
our  new  possessions  in  the  West  Indies  make  her  almost 
a neighbour.  We  have  regular  ships  that  sail  from  New 
York  to  La  Guaira,  calling  at  Porto  Rico  on  the  way.  The  trade 
between  the  two  countries  steadily  increases.  Uncle  Sam  has 
now  a permanent  exposition  of  American  goods  at  Caracas,  and 
American  capital  is  invited  to  develop  the  country.  The  field  is 
a great  one  and  well  worthy  of  study. 

The  word  Venezuela  means  Little  Venice.  The  Spaniards 
who  entered  Lake  Maracaibo  about  400  years  ago  found  settle- 
ments of  Indian  fishermen,  living  in  huts  built  on  piles  above 
the  water.  They  were  reminded  thereby  of  Venice,  so  they 
called  the  new  region  <(  Venezuela ” or  Little  Venice.  The  coun- 
try, however,  is  anything  but  little.  It  has  an  area  of  one-seventh 
the  size  of  the  United  States;  it  is  larger  than  Germany,  France, 
and  Holland  combined,  and  it  has  so  few  people  that  the  greater 
part  of  it  is  a wilderness.  Its  population  is  about  2,500,000.  The 
people  are  the  offspring  of  the  union  of  Spaniards  with  Indians 
and  of  pure  Indians.  The  whites  number  about  one-fifth  of  the 
whole;  they  own  most  of  the  property  and  are  to  a great  extent 
the  rulers  of  the  country. 

This  vast  area  is  a land  of  mighty  mountains,  vast  plains,  and 
numberless  streams.  The  Andes  run  through  it  on  the  west, 
other  mountains  and  highlands  are  found  on  the  east  and  south, 
and  between  the  two  is  the  vast  valley  of  the  Orinoco,  with  its 
natural  pastures  of  millions  of  acres.  In  the  coast  lands  and  in 
(610) 


VENEZUELA,  AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN  6ll 

the  plateaus  and  highlands  of  the  mountains  are  the  chief  agri- 
cultural regions  of  the  country,  regions  devoted  to  the  raising  of 
sugar,  coffee,  cacao,  Indian  corn,  and  other  cereals.  Coffee  is  the 
chief  industry,  there  being  33,000  coffee  estates  from  which  100,- 
000,000  pounds  of  coffee  are  annually  exported.  Of  this  fully 
one-half  goes  to  the  United  States  and  is  sold  there  as  Mocha 
coffee.  It  is  more  difficult  to  raise  coffee  here  than  in  Brazil; 
the  plantations  must  be  irrigated  and  the  coffee  trees  shaded  to 
protect  them  from  the  hot  sun. 


LA  GUAIRA,  VENEZUELA 


The  sugar  estates  and  cacao  orchards  are  on  the  lowlands; 
there  are  in  all  about  11,000  sugar  estates  and  5,000  cacao  orchards. 
The  cacao  produced  is  of  a very  fine  quality.  It  is  grown  along 
the  coast  where  the  climate  is  very  unhealthy;  most  of  the 
product  goes  to  Europe,  where  it  sells  from  50  cents  to  $1  a 
pound. 

One  of  the  least  explored  yet  most  valuable  parts  of  Vene- 
zuela is  the  basin  of  the  Orinoco,  which  is  wonderfully  well 
watered.  Rivers  and  rivulets  course  through  it  like  the  veins 


6 1 2 SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

of  a leaf.  The  Orinoco  has  numberless  tributaries.  It  is  the 

third  river  in  size  in  South  America,  and  the  ninth  in  size 
among  the  great  rivers  of  the  world.  It  is  1,600  miles  long  and 
is  navigable  for  steamers  for  about  800  miles  from  its  mouth,  or 
almost  as  far  inland  as  Chicago  from  the  Atlantic.  It  is  said  to 
have  4,500  miles  of  navigable  waters,  including  its  own  course 
and  its  tributaries.  It  rises  in  the  Andes  and  flows  through  cen- 
tral Venezuela  into  the  Atlantic  through  the  llanos,  perhaps  the 
greatest  pasture-fields  in  the  world.  The  llanos  embrace  an  area 


WASHINGTON  PLAZA,  CARACAS,  VENEZUELA 

about  five  times  that  of  the  State  of  Ohio,  running  on  both  sides 
of  the  river.  They  are  mostly  treeless  plains,  covered  with  a 
rich  growth  of  grass,  which  is  green  in  winter  and  parched  and 
brown  in  summer. 

Only  here  and  there  along  the  streams  are  clumps  of  woods, 
and  about  the  only  part  of  the  lower  Orinoco  that  has  trees  is 
the  delta.  As  the  Orinoco  river  approaches  the  sea,  it  divides 
into  branches  like  the  ribs  of  a fan,  enclosing  a territory  about 
as  large  as  the  State  of  New  Jersey.  Many  of  the  branches  are 


VENEZUELA,  AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN  613 

deep  enough  to  be  navigable,  and  steamers  from  the  island  of 
Trinidad  sail  through  them  into  the  main  stream  and  go  375 
miles  farther  to  Ciudad  Bolivar,  the  metropolis  of  central  Vene- 
zuela. 

Here  the  Orinoco  narrows.  It  is  only  half  a mile  wide 
and  360  feet  deep,  rising  40  feet  when  in  flood.  Above  this 
other  steamers  will  take  you  a distance  of  almost  500  miles  to 
the  Falls  of  Atures,  and  in  smaller  boats  you  can  go  almost  to 
the  foot  of  the  Andes.  You  can,  in  fact,  sail  out  of  the  Orinoco 


“ALL  THINGS  ARE  CARRIED  ON  DONKEYS” 

into  the  Cassiquiare  and  down  that  river  into  the  Rio  Negro, 
which  leads  to  the  Amazon.  From  the  Amazon  you  can  sail  far 
into  Peru  and  Bolivia  on  its  various  tributaries,  or  by  the  Tapa- 
jos  up  to  a point  so  close  to  the  beginnings  of  the  Parana  system 
that  by  carrying  your  canoe  a few  miles  you  could  get  into  the 
Paraguay- Parana  and  float  down  to  the  Rio  de  la  Plata,  thence 
out  into  the  Atlantic.  By  a short  canal  a waterway  might  thus 
be  made  from  the  edge  of  the  Caribbean  sea  right  down  through 
South  America  to  the  Rio  de  la  Plata. 

S.  A.— 39 


614  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

The  basin  of  the  Orinoco  is  devoted  chiefly  to  stock-farming. 
On  the  llanos  there  are  in  the  neighbourhood  of  10,000,000  cattle. 
They  are  of  the  long-horned  Texas  variety,  and  are  raised  for 
their  meat  and  hides.  Many  of  the  hides  go  to  the  United 
States.  The  meat  is  cut  off  in  strips  and  made  into  jerked  beef, 
quantities  of  which  are  exported  to  the  different  islands  of  the 
West  Indies.  There  are  practically  no  dairy  interests;  indeed, 
little  butter  is  used  outside  the  cities,  and  much  of  that  sold  in 
them  is  imported  in  tins.  Only  a small  part  of  the  llanos  is  well- 
stocked,  and  the  number  of  animals  might  be  greatly  increased. 
It  is  estimated  that  almost  one-half  of  Venezuela  is  pasture  land; 
many  of  the  high  valleys  are  used  for  breeding  goats,  of  which 
there  are  several  million  in  the  country.  There  are  also  about 
3,000,000  horses  and  3,000,000  mules,  and  not  less  than  8,000,000 
donkeys.  The  donkeys  are  the  burden-bearers  and  freight-carriers 
of  the  country,  and  on  them  the  produce  is  taken  to  the  seaports. 
You  see  long  trains  of  them  on  almost  every  highway,  and  they 
are  found  by  the  hundred  in  and  about  every  town  market.  In 
Ciudad  Bolivar  there  are  no  carriages.  The  streets  are  paved, 
but  they  are  in  some  places  so  steep  that  they  are  almost  dan- 
gerous to  travel  with  saddle  horses. 

Ciudad  Bolivar  is  a town  of  about  10,000  people.  It  is  made 
up  of  one-story  buildings,  constructed  of  brick  and  mud,  and 
covered  with  plaster  painted  in  all  colours  of  the  rainbow.  The 
houses  are  Spanish  in  style,  and  nearly  all  have  roofs  of  red 
tiles.  There  are  a number  of  large  stores,  a market,  a theatre, 
and  a custom-house. 

It  is  in  the  Orinoco  basin  that  some  of  the  chief  gold  fields 
of  Venezuela  are  found,  although  it  is  said  that  there  is  gold  in 
every  one  of  the  States.  In  the  Yuruary  region  is  the  mine  of 
El  Callao,  which  produced  $40,000,000  worth  of  gold  between  the 
years  1866  and  1889.  It  has  at  times  yielded  more  than  $1,000,000 
worth  of  gold  a year,  and  is  still  being  worked,  although  the  up- 
per levels  have  been  exhausted. 

Most  of  the  people  of  Venezuela  live  north  of  the  Orinoco. 
They  are  to  be  found  cultivating  the  high  plateaus  and  valleys 
in  the  mountains.  The  country  is  in  the  torrid  zone,  and  the 
lands  along  the  coast  are  low  and  tropical,  although  they  are  not 
as  hot  as  some  parts  of  the  llanos  where  there  are  no  sea  breezes. 
The  low  coast-lands  raise  all  kinds  of  tropical  fruits  such  as 


VENEZUELA,  AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN  615 

bananas,  pineapples,  cocoanuts,  and  cacao.  A little  higher  up  you 
come  into  the  coffee  regions,  and  in  the  longitudinal  valleys  of 
the  Andes  you  find  a climate  which  is  perpetual  spring.  Here 


STATUE  OF  BOLIVAR,  CARACAS 


grow  all  sorts  of  vegetables  and  fruits,  and  almost  all  kinds  of 
cereals  There  are  many  irrigated  farms  that  prodiLce  fresh  vege- 
tables all  the  year  round.  Here  are  the  chief  cities  such  as 
Caracas  Valencia,  Barquisimeto,  and  Merida,  and  it  is  here  that 


6l  6 SOUTH  AMERICA : SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITIC  AL 

the  bulk  of  the  population  live.  As  you  go  higher  up,  the  cli- 
mate is  colder,  until  on  the  tops  of  the  Andes  you  reach  perpetual 
snow. 

Venezuela  is  especially  well  off  for  harbours.  It  has  about 
2,000  miles  of  coast  line  along  the  Atlantic  and  the  Caribbean 
sea,  and  has  32  natural  harbours.  At  the  far  west  is  the  Gulf 
of  Maracaibo,  opening  out  into  the  Lake  of  Maracaibo,  which  is 
about  twice  as  large  as  Rhode  Island  and  has  an  average  depth 
of  100  feet,  so  that  the  largest  ocean  vessels  can  sail  in  it.  It 
has,  however,  two  bars  at  its  entrance,  one  of  which  is  only  io| 
feet  under  water,  and  until  these  are  removed  the  larger  steam- 
ers cannot  come  in.  The  country  about  the  lake  is  a rich  agri- 
cultural region.  It  produces  coffee,  cacao,  tobacco,  rice,  cotton, 
and  indigo,  besides  all  sorts  of  tropical  fruits.  It  is  a rich  sugar 
region,  and  mines  of  gold,  copper,  lead,  and  vast  deposits  of 
asphalt  and  coal  are  said  to  be  in  the  mountains  near  by.  The 
chief  town  of  the  region  is  Maricaibo,  near  the  mouth  of  the 
lake.  It  is  a Spanish-built  city  of  about  40,000  people,  sur- 
rounded by  cocoanut  groves. 

A little  farther  down  the  coast  is  the  harbour  of  Puerto  Ca- 
bello,  a bay  so  safe  that  it  is  called  the  Port  of  the  Hair,  Cabello 
meaning  “hair®  and  the  name  signifying  that  a single  hair  will 
hold  a vessel  at  anchor.  Still  farther  to  the  eastward  is  the 
Port  of  La  Guaira,  where  all  the  principal  steamship  lines  land, 
and  where  the  steamers  from  New  York  come  three  times  a 
month.  La  Guaira  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  the  town 
running  for  a mile  or  more  round  the  bay.  It  is  an  old  town 
and  exeeedingly  hot,  but  not  unhealthy.  It  is  the  port  for  the 
capital,  Caracas,  which  is  situated  on  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 
tain, only  6 miles  away.  It  takes,  however,  24  miles  of  railroad 
travel  to  reach  it,  for  you  have  to  climb  to  an  altitude  of  almost 
a mile  to  get  over  the  pass  into  the  valley  in  which  Caracas  lies. 
A tunnel  might  be  made  through  from  one  city  to  the  other, 
and  a concession  to  this  effect  has  been  granted,  but  so  far  no 
real  work  has  been  done. 

Caracas  lies  almost  a mile  above  the  sea.  It  is  in  a beautiful 
valley  about  2 miles  wide  and  15  miles  long,  surrounded  by 
mountains,  some  of  which  are  2 miles  in  height.  The  valley  is 
covered  with  sugar  plantations,  vegetable  gardens,  and  orchards 
of  oranges,  lemons,  and  other  fruit.  The  city  contains  about 


VENEZUELA,  AND  THE  ORINOCO  BASIN  617 

80,000  people;  and  is  one  of  the  liveliest  and  most  enterprising 
of  the  South  American  capitals.  It  is  laid  out  in  squares,  with 
streets  crossing  one  another  at  right  angles,  and  running  out  from 
the  Plaza  Bolivar  in  the  centre  much  like  the  streets  of  Wash- 
ington are  laid  out  about  the  Capitol.  There  are  a number  of 
statues  to  be  seen  here  and  there,  among  them  is  one  of  Simon 
Bolivar,  the  founder  of  Venezuelan  independence,  and  also  one  of 
George  Washington. 


THE  CAPITOL  AT  CARACAS 

The  houses  are  chiefly  of  one  story.  They  have  thick  walls, 
red-tiled  roofs,  and  iron-barred  windows.  They  are  built  in  the 
Spanish  style  about  patios;  most  of  them  are  covered  with  stucco 
and  painted  in  the  most  delicate  tints  of  yellow,  blue,  red,  and 
green.  There  are  no  chimneys.  The  buildings  are  flush  with  the 
street,  and  from  the  roofs  extend  out  iron  water-spouts  to  a point 
about  midway  over  the  sidewalk,  so  that  a shower  is  liable  to 
send  a stream  down  the  collar  of  the  passer-by. 

Caracas  has  a large  theatre,  a national  library,  a university 
with  schools  of  law,  medicine,  theology,  and  civil  engineering, 


6 18  SOUTH  AMERICA:  SOCIAL,  INDUSTRIAL,  AND  POLITICAL 

and  cemeteries  of  the  pigeon-hole  style,  like  those  of  other  South 
American  cities.  The  chief  cemetery  is  called  Paradise,  so  that 
the  man  who  is  buried  in  it  is  sure  of  Paradise,  if  not  of  Heaven. 

Caracas  has  a half  dozen  daily  newspapers,  the  largest  of 
which  has  a circulation  of  about  5,000;  it  has  also  weekly  and 
monthly  periodicals.  It  has  street-cars  and  electric  lights,  a tele- 
phone exchange,  and  in  fact  almost  every  sort  of  modern  im- 
provement. 

It  is  the  seat  of  the  government  of  Venezuela.  Here  the 
President  lives,  and  here  congress  sits  and  makes  the  laws  for 
the  country.  It  is  here  also  that  the  chief  churches  are  located. 
Roman  Catholicism  is  the  State  religion,  and  numbers  among  its 
followers  the  whole  of  the  population,  save  about  ic,ooo;  of  the 
latter  3,500  are  Protestants,  and  400  are  Jews,  the  remaining 
6.000  being  without  religious  profession. 


GARDEN  IN  CARACAS 


INDEX 


Aconcagua  Mt.,  height  of,  372. 

Aconcagua  River,  372. 

Alacalufs,  The,  283. 

Alagoas,  State  of,  555. 

Albuquerque,  444. 

Alpacas,  sheep,  Peru,  135. 

Amazon  River,  561-579,  613  i Cacao,  564  S71  > 
Forests  on,  561  ; Huts  along,  568  ; Navigable 
length  of,  562 ; People  on,  568 ; Roads 
through  forest,  570;  Rubber,  583;  Vege- 
tation along,  567;  Villages  along,  571. 
Amazon  Valley  : Area  of,  562 ; Rainfall,  568. 
Amazonas  Rubber  Company,  584. 

Amazonas,  Bishop  of,  539. 

Ambato,  70. 

Andes  Mountains,  1 14  ; Beauties  of,  1 17  ; De- 
scription of,  125 ; End  of,  259 ; Foothills, 
372;  Hand-car  ride,  118;  Indians  of,  114, 
135  ; Length  of,  122  ; Mineral  deposits,  179  ; 
Prospecting  in,  183;  Rainy  season,  183; 
Terraces,  1 14. 

Angol,  246. 

Antioquia,  53. 

Antofagasta,  184,  195. 

Araucanian  Indians : Babies,  256 ; Customs  of, 
251 ; Dress  of,  250;  Ideas  of  death,  256; 
Farmers,  257 ; History  of,  249 ; Lands  of, 
258 ; Marriage  among,  255  ; Number  of,  250 ; 
Ponchos,  257. 

Arauco  Bay,  247. 

Arequipa,  126;  Harvard  Observatory,  130; 
Houses  of,  129;  Railroad,  133;  Women  of, 
129. 

Argentine  : Area  of,  294-296 ; Americans  in,  297  ; 
Armadillos,  340;  Army,  366;  (<  Argentina 
Mesopotamia,”  397  ; Beef  extract  factories, 
352;  Buenos  Aires,  305;  Carne  Concuero, 
334;  Cattle  shipping,  356;  Chaco,  297; 
Chances  for  United  States  workmen,  331 ; 
Congress  of,  361 ; Corn,  297  ; Corruption  in 
politics,  362;  Elections  in,  358;  Farming 
methods,  345;  Foreign  Banks,  385;  Foreign 
Steamship  Companies,  382;  Foreign  Trade, 
302,  326 ; Funerals,  337 ; Gauchos,  333 ; 
Gold,  297;  Grain  producing  area,  344; 


Hospitality,  336;  Irrigation  in,  345;  Judicial 
system,  365 ; Language  of,  303 ; Locusts, 
348;  Marble,  297;  Manufacturing,  332; 
Navy,  366  ; National  debt,  361;  Onyx,  297; 
Population,  297  ; Postal  system,  304 ; Presi- 
dent of,  358  ; Railroads,  301,  364-379 ; Real 
estate,  388  ; Recoleta  cemetery,  339 ; Rivers 
of,  295  ; Sheep,  350-356 ; Sheep,  how  frozen, 
353;  Shepherds,  351 ; Silver,  297;  Trade 
with  the  United  States,  382;  Welsh  colony, 
345 ; Wheat,  297,  344-346 ; Women,  331  ; 
Wool,  354,  355. 

Armadillos,  340. 

Ascotan  Lake  185. 

Asphalt,  Venezuela,  616. 

Asuncion,  31 1,  389-404  ; Distance  from  Buenos 
Aires,  389 ; Interest  rates  in,  405  ; Market 
of,  413 ; Population  of,  399,  402  ; Street  cars, 
405;  Telephone,  404  ; Telegraph,  404. 

Asuncion  Bay,  398. 

Atahualpa,  69,  81. 

Aymara  Indians,  139,  152  ; Children,  slavery  of, 
1 56 ; Huts,  157;  Pongo,  155;  Women,  156. 

Babahoyo,  62. 

Babahoyo  River,  62. 

Baeza,  Don  Augustine,  245,  252. 

Bahia,  535;  Diamonds,  543;  Education  in,  540; 
Gold,  544 ; Houses  of,  539 ; Horse  cars, 
596 ; Manganese,  544 ; Money,  540  ; Negroes 
of,  535 ; <(  Star  of  the  South,”  diamond, 
544 

Bahia,  State  of,  555. 

Bahia  Blanca,  301,  345. 

Ballivian,  Senor  Manuel  V.,  160. 

Bandolier,  Professor  Adolf,  139. 

Barquisimeto,  615. 

Barranquilla,  52. 

Barrios,  Augustin,  64. 

Bernardino,  407. 

Biobio  River,  232. 

Bird  Rock  Island,  24. 

Bogota,  53;  Congress  of,  53;  Electric  railroads, 
53;  Population,  53  ; President  of  Colombia, 
53- 


(619) 


620 


INDEX 


Bolivia:  Area  of,  160;  Aymara  Indians,  152; 
Borax,  185 ; Challona,  157;  Chicha,  159; 
Coca,  158;  Copper,  180 ; Cotton,  162;  Coun- 
try hotels,  173;  Debt  slaves,  152;  Exports, 
141,  176;  Farmers,  155,  174;  Fruits  of,  151 ; 
Gold,  165,  180-182 ; Grazing  lands  of,  161  ; 
Imports,  141,  176;  Indian  corn,  15 1 ; Land- 
owners,  155 ; La  Paz,  145;  Llamas,  174; 
Mail  coach,  1 7 1 ; Mineral  territory,  178  ; 
Plateau  of,  168 ; Population  of,  160 ; Qui- 
nine, 166 ; Railroads,  161 ; Rubber,  162  ; Salt, 
184;  Sheep,  174;  Silver,  178-180;  Sugar, 
165;  Tin  mining,  177;  Titicaca,  136;  Trade 
with,  175;  Travel  in,  161 ; Unexplored  coun- 
try, 160. 

Bolivar,  Ciudad,  613. 

Bolivar,  Simon,  617. 

Borax,  185. 

Borda,  Senor  Idiarte,  465. 

Borden,  Uriah  IT,  130. 

Brazil,  481  ; Alagoas,  State  of,  555  ; Area,  481, 
594;  Bahia,  State  of,  555;  Cacao,  561,  571 ; 
Cafes,  519;  Carbons,  544;  Cattle,  483;  Cli- 
mate, 482;  Coffee,  export,  500;  Coffee, 
labourers,  494 ; Coffee,  importance  of,  to, 
500 ; Cotton,  555  ; Diamonds,  543 ; Dumont 
coffee  estate,  493 ; Electricity,  adoption  of, 
595;  Exports,  594;  Foreign  Banks,  600; 
Freight  rates  to,  599;  Germans  in,  483,  596- 
600 ; Gold,  544  ; Healtli  of,  482  ; Iron,  544  ; 
Matto  Grosso,  State  of,  481  ; Methodist 
schools  in,  528 ; Minas  Geraes,  482,  555 ; 
Money,  540 ; Negroes,  486,  535  ; Opportuni- 
ties for  money  making,  601  ; Parana,  State 
of,  483  ; Paulistas,  484 ; Portuguese,  482  ; 
Population,  594 ; Railroads,  596 ; Rio  Grande 
do  Sul,  State  of,  482 ; Rubber,  583  ; Santa 
Catharina,  State  of,  483  ; Sao  Paulo,  State  of, 
482 ; Silver,  544  ; Slavery,  539  ; Soil,  482  ; 
States  of,  481  ; Sugar,  483,  555;  Trade  with 
United  States,  594;  Unexplored  territory, 
601  ; United  States  Legation  at  Petropolis, 
527  ; Women,  531 ; Yellow  fever,  486. 
Bridges,  Rev.  Thomas,  284. 

Buenos  Aires,  305  ; Architecture  of,  312 ; Avenida 
de  Mayo,  310 ; Banks,  306 ; Barracas,  312, 
354;  Business  in,  31 1;  Calle  Florida,  323: 
Catholicism  in,  315;  Conventillos,  327; 
Family  life,  324 ; P'oreign  trade,  305 ; 
Growth  of,  309-311;  Health  of,  328;  Horse 
racing  in,  316 ; Lottery,  325  ; Manufactories. 
305;  Markets,  329,  340;  (<  Mercado  Central 
des  Frutos,^  354;  Millionaires  of,  309; 
Palermo  Park,  312,  318;  Population  of,  309- 
311,358;  Portenos,  317 ; Price  of  land,  311; 
Protestant  churches  in,  315 ; Public  build- 
ings, 364 ; Stock  exchange,  306  ; Theatres, 
321 ; Trades  unions,  330. 


Cabot,  Sebastian,  393. 

Cacao:  Amazon  River,  561, 571 ; Amount  raised, 
66;  Cost  of  raising,  66  ; Cuzco,  92  ; Ecuador, 
58 ; Guianas,  604,  608 ; Flow  grown,  66 ; 
Matto  Grosso,  444;  Peru,  91;  Tax  on,  72; 
Venezuela,  61 1,  616. 

Caceres,  Andres  Avelino,  President  of  Peru,  90. 
Cacique  wood,  37. 

Cajamarca,  81. 

Callao,  in. 

Caracas,  615. 

Carnauba  palm,  557. 

Carne  Concuero,  334. 

Casapalca,  119,  180. 

Cassiquiare  River,  564,  580,  613. 

Cauca  Valley,  52. 

Cayenne,  609. 

Ceara,  Carnauba  palm,  557 ; Lace  making,  557  ; 
Population,  557. 

Cerro  de  Pasco  mines,  92,  179,  180. 

Chacaros  Indians,  165. 

Chaco:  Area  of,  448;  Forests  of,  398 ; Hairless 
Indians,  451  ; Population  of,  451 ; Resources, 
451  ; Unexplored  country,  400. 

Chagres  River,  28  ; Depth  of,  47  ; Dredging  of. 

44 ; Poem  on,  29. 

Challona,  Bolivia,  157. 

Chiloe  Island,  263. 

Chimbo,  70. 

Chimborazo,  Mt.,  54,  58. 

Chincha  Islands,  208. 

Chile  : Area  of,  192  ; Boundaries  of,  192  ; Catho- 
lic church,  228  ; Chilenos,.  196  ; Climate,  195, 
232 ; Coal  mines,  247 ; Congress  of,  226 ; 
Copper,  196,  247  ; Debt  labourers,  239 ; Des- 
ert of,  243  ; Educational  system,  229 ; Elec- 
trical franchises,  246  ; Farms  of,  231 ; German 
settlements,  246 ; Gold,  196  ; Guano,  196  ; 
Iron,  196  ; Irrigation,  232 ; Land,  how  sold, 
245;  Manganese,  196;  Mission  schools,  229, 
244  ; (<  The  Moneda,'*  President’s  house,  224 ; 
Nitrate  of  soda,  185;  Population,  199;  Pos- 
tal service,  230 ; President  of,  224 ; Presi- 
dential elections  in,  225  ; Quicksilver,  196  ; 
Railroads,  184, 243,  245  ; Rainfall,  195  ; Rotos, 
238  ; Silver,  196  ; Telegraphs,  229  ; War  with 
Peru,  92  ; Wheat,  231 ; Woman,  oldest  in,  252. 
Chile,  South  : Forests  of,  243 ; Labour  in,  246 ; 

Public  lands,  245. 

Chililaya,  140. 

Chuguiaguillo  River,  181. 

Cinchona  tree,  166. 

Clarence  Island,  278. 

Coal : Chile,  247  ; Venezuela,  616. 

Coca,  147,  158. 

Cochabamba,  162. 

Coffee : Amount  used  in  United  States,  500 ; 
Bushes,  498 ; Chiriqui  lands,  52 ; Dumont 


INDEX 


621 


Fazenda,  493;  Duty  on,  501  ; Exports,  500; 
Factories,  504;  Grades  of,  503;  How  col- 
ored, 504 ; How  planted,  494  ; How  prepared 
for  market,  495  ; Java,  497,  502 ; Mocha,  497, 
502,  61 1 ; Perene  district,  112  ; Peru,  82,  91  ; 
Price  of,  502 ; Rio,  502  ; Santos,  501  ; Soil, 
493;  Sorters,  497;  Thieves,  507  ; Venezuela, 
61 1 ; Warehouses,  505  ; Wharves,  505. 
Coimbra,  444. 

Colombia : Area  of,  52 ; Coast  of,  50 ; Diamonds, 
531;  Mining  in,  53 ; Modes  of  travel,  52 ; 
Sunday  in,  38 ; Undeveloped  country,  52. 
Colon,  27  ; Climate  of,  28  ; Distance  from  New 
York,  23 ; Health  of,  28  ; Journey  to,  23 ; 
Population  of,  28. 

Concepcion,  Villa,  403,  444. 

Conventillos,  328. 

Copper:  Bolivia,  176,  180 ; Chile,  196,247;  Vene- 
zuela, 616. 

Coquimbo,  196. 

Cordoba,  Province  of,  296,  31 1. 

Corentyne  River,  605. 

Corn:  Argentina,  297;  Bolivia,  151  ; Peru,  114. 
Corrientes,  394,  439. 

Corumba,  444. 

Cotopaxi,  Mt.,  58. 

Cotton  : Alagoas,  555  ; Bolivia,  162  ; Paraguay, 
426;  Pernambuco,  554;  Peru,  84,  1 13 ; Vene- 
zuela, 616. 

Cousino,  Madame,  248  ; Macul,  237. 

Cousino,  Matias,  248. 

Crusoe,  Robinson,  Island,  203. 

Cuestas,  Juan  L.,  465. 

Cuevas  Valley,  375. 

Cuyaba,  439 ; Education  in,  447  ; Population  of, 
447  ; Street  car  line,  447. 

Cuyaba  River,  447. 

Cuzco,  92,  134,  139;  Temple  of  the  Sun,  81. 

Daule  River,  62. 

Dawson  Island,  278. 

De  Lesseps,  Ferdinand,  27 ; Panama  Canal 
Company,  47. 

Demerara  River,  606. 

Desaguadero  River,  138,  140. 

Desert  of  Peru,  82. 

Desert  of  South  America,  77. 

Desolation  Island,  260,  278. 

Diamonds:  Bahia,  543;  Colombia,  53;  Plow 
mined,  544;  Matto  Grosso,  443;  Money  in, 
544  ; Where  found,  543. 

Dust  Storms,  Argentina,  380. 

Ecuador:  Area  of,  57;  Bark  blankets,  61; 
Cacao,  58,  66;  Cattle  of,  64;  Coast  of,  57; 
Congress,  71 ; Country  canoe  trip,  64;  Debt 
slaves,  67 ; Education  in,  72  ; Floods  of,  63  ; 
P'reight  rates  to,  76;  Government  of,  71 ; 


Head  hunters,  72 ; Houses  of,  58;  Indians, 
72;  Mountains  of,  58;  National  debt,  72; 
Orchids,  65 ; Palm  ivory,  58 ; Plantations 
of,  64 ; Population  of,  75  ; Quichua  Indians, 
76;  Quito,  69;  Revolutions  of,  71 ; Salt,  72; 
Situation  of,  57 ; Sugar,  58 ; Pizarro,  67 ; 
Papaya  tree,  58;  Taxes,  72;  Trade  of,  76; 
Travelling  outfit,  68 ; Unknown  country, 
57;  Vegetation  of,  58,  64;  Volcanoes,  58: 
Wages  in,  68  ; (<  Yucca,”  64. 

El  Dorado,  607. 

Electric  light,  595;  Brazil,  595;  Man&os,  582; 
Para,  572,  595 ; Pernambuco  556  ; Rosario, 
342  ; Sao  Paulo,  595. 

Emperador,  40. 

Encarnacion,  Villa,  403. 

Entre  Rios,  297,  394-397. 

Equator,  Crossing  the,  50. 

Errazuriz,  President  of  Chile,  224. 

Essequibo  River,  605. 

Falkland  Islands,  285;  Area  of,  287  ; Character 
of  land,  287  ; Extent  of,  286;  Great  Britain 
in,  285 ; Modes  of  travel,  288 ; Owners  of 
land,  289;  Pastures  of,  287;  Penguins,  286; 
Population,  287  ; Public  lands,  291 ; Sheep, 
290 ; Sheep,  breeds,  290;  Sheep,  cheviot, 
290 ; Sheep,  how  cared  for,  289 ; Shepherds, 
life  of,  290  ; Situation,  285  ; Travelling  school 
teacher,  290 ; Wild  cattle  on,  289  ; Winds  of, 
287  ; Wool  of,  287,  289. 

Formosa,  297. 

Forteleza,  557. 

Froward,  Cape,  259. 

Galapagos  Islands,  208. 

Galera  Tunnel,  120. 

Gauchos,  335. 

Georgetown,  605. 

Germans  in  South  America,  407,  600. 

Gold:  Argentina,  297 ; Bahia,  544;  Bolivia,  165, 
176,  180,181;  Chile,  196;  Colombia,  53; 
Guianas,  British,  607;  Dutch,  607;  French, 
607;  Matto  Grosso,  443,  547  ; Minas  Geraes, 
547;  Navarino  Island,  281 ; Ouro  de  Morro 
de  Fogo,  547 ; Peru.  182  ; Slogget  Bay,  280 ; 
Tierra  del  Fuego,  280;  Venezuela,  614,  616. 
Guanacos,  283. 

Guano,  208;  Character  of  islands,  21 1 ; Chincha 
islands,  208;  How  found,  21 1;  Pelicans, 
21 1 ; Peru,  92  ; Price  of,  212;  Revenue  from, 
212. 

Guianas,  The,  603;  Boundaries  of,  603;  Cacao, 
604 ; Carib  Indians,  605 ; Forests  of,  604 ; 
Palms,  604  ; Trade  with  United  States,  609. 
Guiana,  British,  605;  Administration  of,  607; 
Gold,  607  ; Imports,  609 ; Railroads,  607 ; 
Sugar  raising,  605. 


622 


INDEX 


Guiana,  Dutch  : Cacao,  608  ; Gold,  607  ; Govern- 
ment of,  608  ; Imports,  609  ; Situation  of,  608. 
Guiana,  French,  609  ; Gold,  607  ; Imports,  609. 
Guarani  Indians,  410. 

Guayaquil,  54 ; American  consulate,  56 ; Banks 
of,  55 ; Debt  prisoners,  57  ; Earthquakes, 
58;  Fare  to,  from  Panama,  51  > Health  of, 
56 ; Houses  of,  54  ; Population  of,  55  ; Trade 
of,  55  ; Women,  54. 

Guayaros  Indians,  165. 

Guayas  River,  62. 

Gulf  Stream,  24. 

Hammond,  Phillip,  494. 

Harvard  Observatory,  Peru,  130. 

Hayes  Villa,  407,  448. 

Hawkins,  Sir  Richard,  285. 

Holy  Ghost,  Cape,  260. 

Hondo,  52. 

Hoste  Island,  278. 

Hualgayoc,  179. 

Huanchaco  Mining  Company,  196. 
Humberstone,  James  T.,  189. 

Incas,  69  ; Mythology,  139 ; Number  of,  80 ; Ruins, 
80,  138;  Titicaca  Lake,  138;  Wealth  of,  92. 
Indians  : Alacaluf,  266,  283 ; Andes  Mountain, 
1 14,  135  ; Araucanian,  249  ; Ay  mar  a,  139, 152 ; 
Cari'b,  605;  Chacaro,  165 ; Chaco,  451 ; 
Ecuador,  72  ; Guarani,  410 ; Guayaros,  165  ; 
Jivaros,  72;  La  Paz,  146;  Mojo,  165;  Napo 
River,  162;  Ona,  281,  282;  Pachitea  River, 
165;  Patagonian,  266;  Quichua,  139,152; 
Tobas,  451 ; Yaghan,  266,  283,  284. 

Indigo,  616. 

Iodine,  189. 

Iquique,  190 ; Electric  lights,  191  ; Mines  at,  196 ; 
Nitrate  fields,  186  : Population,  190;  Street 
cars,  191 ; Telephones,  191 ; Water  supply, 
195- 

Iron,  196. 

Itauri,  steamer,  259,  262. 

Ives,  Isle  of  St.,  278. 

Java  coffee,  497,  502. 

Javanese  in  Dutch  Guiana,  608. 

Jequetepec,  old  city  of,  80. 

Jequetepec  River,  80. 

Jequetepec,  Valley  of  the,  85. 

Jivaros  Indians,  72. 

Juan  Fernandez  Island,  203,  207. 

Jundiahy,  596. 

Kehren,  Otto,  252. 

Klotz,  Samuel,  17I- 

Ln  Guaira,  610,  616. 

La  Paz,  145 ; Babies,  149;  Business  of,  148;  Cholos, 
147;  Chuno,  150;  Houses  of,  146;  Indians, 
146 ; Journey  to  Oruro,  171 ; Llamas,  147  ; 


Markets,  148 ; Men,  dress  of,  146 ; Popu- 
lation, 147  ; Route  to,  145  ; Situation  of,  145  : 
Streets  of,  146 ; Sunday  in,  148 ; Women, 
dress  of,  147. 

Lead  : Chile,  196 ; Venezuela,  616. 

Lima,  95  ; Age  of,  95 ; Business  section,  100 ; 
Churches,  107;  Fashionable  Lima,  103; 
P’oreign  business  houses  in,  103 ; Horses  of, 
107;  Houses  of,  96;  Mercadore,  100 ; Milk 
women,  108 ; Mud  houses,  96-100 ; Ped- 
dlers, 108  ; Population,  95  ; Situation  of,  1 13 ; 
Street  scenes,  100;  Valley  of  the  Rimac, 
1 13 ; View  of  the  city,  96;  Women,  103-107. 
Llamas,  135,  141,  174,  175;  Habits  of,  141 ; Ore 
carrying,  180. 

Lobos  Islands,  208. 

Los  Andes,  372. 

Lota  coal  mines,  247;  Electric  car  in,  247; 

Profits  of,  247  ; Wages  paid,  248. 

Louis  Philippe,  Coach  of,  235. 

Madeira  River,  562. 

Magdalena  River,  52. 

Magellan,  Ferdinand,  261. 

Magellan  : Strait,  259 ; Governor  of  the,  274 ; 
Sheep,  275  ; Sheep,  enemies  of,  276  ; Sheep, 
how  managed,  275  ; Sheep,  number  of,  275 ; 
Sheep,  profit  in,  277  ; Sheep  shearing,  276 ; 
Sheep,  size  of  flocks,  275 ; Scotch  shepherds, 
276 ; Troubles  of  sheep  farmer,  277. 

Manaos,  581 ; Electric  lights  in,  582 ; Electric 
street  railway,  596;  P'oreign  citizens,  582; 
Population,  582;  Situation  of,  579;  Steam- 
ships at,  581 ; Telephone  system,  582. 

Manco  Capac,  139. 

Manganese,  196,  544. 

Mapocho  River,  216. 

Maracaibo,  City  of,  616. 

Maracaibo,  Gulf  of,  616. 

Maracaibo,  Lake  of,  616. 

Marajo  Island,  561. 

Maranon  River,  57. 

Marble,  Argentina,  297. 

Martin  Gracia,  Island  of,  393. 

« Mate,”  417,  444. 

Matto  Grosso  : Area  of,  443,  481 ; Cacao,  444 ; 

Diamonds,  443  ; Gold,  443,  547  ; Rubber,  444. 
Meiggs,  Henry,  112,  134,  179. 

Meiggs,  Mount,  in,  119. 

Mendoza,  Pedro  de,  310. 

Mendoza,  Province  of,  296. 

Merida,  615. 

Minas  Geraes : Diamonds  discovered  in,  543; 

Gold,  547  ; Population,  482. 

Misti,  Mt.,  133. 

Mojo  Indians,  165. 

Mollendo,  122;  Harbour  of,  125;  Water  supply, 
195- 


INDEX 


623 


Montevideo,  457  ; Architecture  of,  459 ; Bank  of 
the  Republic,  460 ; Cerro,  The,  458 ; Chari- 
table institutions,  461 ; Churches,  461 ; Edu- 
cational system,  462;  Marriage  in,  478; 
Milk  peddler,  463 ; Money  of,  460 ; National 
debt,  461 ; Official  corruption,  460 ; Postal 
system,  462 ; Situation  of,  457  ; Society  in, 
470;  Solis  Theatre,  459;  Steamship  lines, 
458;  Stock  Exchange,  459;  Street  scenes, 
463;  Telegraph  lines,  462;  Wealthy  families 
of,  469. 

Montevideo,  Bay  of,  458. 

Morro  Velho,  Mine,  547. 

Mountain  Gate,  Island,  440. 

Napo  River  Indians,  162. 

Navarino  Island,  278;  Gold,  281. 

Nitrate  of  soda,  185 ; Agua  Santa  Company, 
186 ; Area  of  lands,  186 ; Amount  shipped, 
185 ; Caliche,  187  ; Capital  invested  in,  190  ; 
Factories,  190;  Fields,  186;  How  mined, 
187;  How  prepared  for  market,  188;  Price 
of,  190 ; Profits  of,  189 ; Undeveloped  terri- 
tory, 247 ; V alue  of,  185 ; Where  found, 
186— 188. 

Obidos,  571. 

Oello,  Mama,  139. 

Ona  Indians,  266,  281,  282  ; Gastronomy  of,  283 ; 
Polygamy,  284;  Roman  Catholic  Mission,  281. 

Onisin  Island,  278. 

Onyx,  297. 

Orchids,  Ecuador,  65. 

Orinoco  River,  563,  580,  61 1 ; Navigable  waters 
of,  612. 

Orinoco  Valley,  610. 

Oroyo  Railroad,  111-121  ; Bridges  of,  1 17 ; Cost 
of,  ill,  1 12;  Galera  Tunnel,  120  ; Highest 
railroad  point  in  the  world,  119";  Tunnels  of, 
1 12, 1 17  ; Verugas  Bridge,  1 17. 

Oruro,  168,  177 ; Silver  mining,  177-179 ; Tin 
mining,  177. 

Pacasmayo,  77. 

Pachitea  River  Indians,  165. 

Pacific,  South  : Cost  of  travel,  51  ; Steamship 
lines,  51  ; Steamers,  50. 

Pacific  Steam  Navigation  Company,  51. 

Page,  Thomas  J.,  439. 

Paita,  Peru,  84. 

Palms,  Ecuador,  58 ; Guianas,  604 ; Paraguay, 
431  ; Rio  de  Janeiro,  51 1. 

Pampa,  Aullagas  Lake,  171. 

Pampa  de  Islay,  126. 

Panama,  city  of,  37  ; Bull  fights,  38  ; Cock  fights, 
38 ; Houses,  37 ; Lottery,  38 ; Stores,  38 ; 
Society,  39;  Woods,  37;  Women,  39. 

Panama  Canal,  40-47 ; Cost  of  completion,  43 ; 
Culebra  Pass,  40 ; Depth  of  cutting,  44 ; 


Eiffel’s  contract,  48 ; Frauds,  48  : French 
capital  invested,  47  ; Length  of,  44;  Nature 
of  rock,  44;  New  York  contracts,  48;  Num- 
ber of  men  at  work,  40 ; Story  of,  44  ; Waste 
in  machinery,  47. 

Panama  Construction  Company,  43. 

Panama,  Isthmus  of  : Area,  52 ; Bamboo,  34  ; 
Character  of  soil,  44 ; Length  of,  33,  44 ; 
Valuable  woods,  37;  Vegetation  of,  34; 
Width  of,  44. 

Panama  Railroad  & Steamship  Company, 
23- 

Panama  Railroad,  30;  Built  by  Americans,  30 ; 
Concessions  of,  33 ; Construction,  33 ; Cost 
of,  33  ; Earnings,  33;  Fares  011,30;  Freight 
rates,  33  ; Freight  carried,  33 ; Length  of, 
30:  Owned  by  the  French,  30;  Receipts  of, 
33  ; Wages  paid  on,  34. 

Papaya  tree,  Ecuador,  58. 

Parti,  548,  561,  564 ; Electric  lights,  372  ; Electric 
street  railway,  572 ; Population,  572,  585 ; 
Rubber,  585 ; Rubber  port,  579,  583 ; Street 
car  ride  through,  579 ; Street  scenes,  576 ; 
Wharves  of,  575  ; Yellow  fever,  572. 

Paraguassu,  River,  543. 

Paraguay  : Americans  in,  427 ; American  hard- 
ware, 425  : Ants,  432 ; Area  of,  400 ; Aus- 
tralian colony,  407 ; Banks  of,  405,  406 ; 
Business  women,  413;  Cattle,  432;  Cities 
of,  403;  Colonies,  407;  Cotton,  426;  For- 
eigners in,  402;  Forests  of,  421 ; Foreign 
trade,  425  ; Germans  in,  407  ; Guarani  lan- 
guage, 435  ; Home  life,  435;  Hospitality  of, 
435  ; Hotels,  428  ; Interior,  beauties  of,  431 ; 
Labourers’  wages,  427  ; Lace  making,  41 1 ; 
Lepacho  wood,  422 ; Money  of,  405  ; Or- 
anges, 41 1,  430 ; Palms,  431 ; Pasture  lands 
431 ; Poor  Paraguayans,  415 ; Population, 
418;  Price  of  land,  421 ; Railroads,  429; 
Situation  of,  400  ; Soil  of,  435  ; Stock  raising, 
418;  Timbo  wood,  425;  Tobacco  smoking, 
412  ; Trade  opportunities,  425  ; Undeveloped 
territory,  418 ; United  States  furniture  in, 
422;  United  States  woods  in,  ’421  ; Linked 
States  missions,  427;  War  with  Argentina, 
401  ; War  with  Uruguay,  401 ; Verbales, 
425  ; Yerba  Mate,  417,  425. 

Paraguay  River,  295,  389,  391,  444,  563 ; Animal 
life  along,  440 ; Scenery,  440 ; Settlements 
on,  444 ; Width  of,  397  ; Wild  animals,  398. 

Paramaribo,  608. 

Parana  River,  295,  342,  389,  439,  444,  563  ; Beau- 
ties of,  397  ; Delta  of,  393  ; Floating  islands 
in,  392;  Navigable  length,  439;  Sand  bars 
in,  391 ; Steamship  on,  393  ; Vegetation  along, 
397- 

Patagonia,  260 ; Indians  of,  266,  269  ; Vegetation 
of,  265. 


624 


INDEX 


Pelicans,  21 1. 

Pelleschi,  Giovanni,  452. 

Pelotas,  483. 

Pembroke  Cape,  291. 

Penas,  Gulf  of,  263. 

Penquins:  P'alkland  Islands,  286. 

Perene,  112. 

Pernambuco,  553 ; Cotton,  554 ; Recife,  553 ; 
Reef,  554;  Size,  554;  Sugar,  555. 

Peru  : Area  of,  91  ; Agriculture,  86 ; Astronomy 
in,  130;  Cacao,  92;  Coffee,  82,  91,  112;  Con- 
gress, 93;  Corn,  1 14 ; Cotton,  85;  Country 
scenes,  85 ; Country  house,  86 ; Peruvian 
desert,  77-79;  Education,  87;  Farming,  86; 
Fruits  of,  82;  Gold,  182;  Government  of, 
89;  Grace  and  Company,  1 13 ; Guano,  92; 
Irrigation,  82,  84;  Llamas,  135;  Mines, 
number  of,  179;  Population  of,  92;  Poverty 
of,  92  ; President  of,  88 ; Quinua,  134  ; Rail- 
roads, 78,  85,  122,  125 ; Rainfall,  81,  96 ; Re- 
sources of,  91 ; Revolutions,  88 ; Silver,  92 ; 
Sugar,  82,  86,  1 13 ; Vegetation,  114;  War 
with  Chile,  92. 

Petropolis,  523 ; Methodist  College,  528 ; Popu- 
lation, 524;  Railroad  to,  524;  United  States 
Legation,  527. 

Pichincha,  Volcano,  71. 

Pierola,  Nicolas  de,  88 ; Interview  with,  91. 

Pilar,  Cape,  260. 

Pilar,  Villa,  412. 

Pilcomayo  River,  295,  448. 

Pirapo,  428. 

Pisco,  Bay  of,  208. 

Piura  Valley,  84. 

Pizarro,  62,  81,  95. 

Poopo,  Lake,  138,  171. 

Porto  Alegre,  571. 

Port  Stanley,  286 ; American  Consulate,  293  ; 
Description  of,  291 ; Market  of,  292 ; Pen- 
guins, 292  ; Population  of,  291 ; Richest  cap- 
ital city  of  the  world,  291. 

Potosi,  162,  178. 

Puenta  del  Inca,  natural  bridge,  375. 

Puerto  Cabello,  616. 

Puerto  Montt,  246. 

Puno,  122. 

Punta  Arenas,  192,  262,  271,  272 ; Citizens  of, 
274  ; Climate  of,  271 ; Description  of,  273 ; 
Home  of  Governor,  274 ; Harbour  of,  272; 
Land  values  in,  273;  Port  of,  271 ; Rich 
men  of,  274;  Social  life  in,  274. 

Pysandu,  457. 

Quebracho  Colorado,  422. 

Quichua  Indians,  139,  152. 

Quicksilver,  Chile,  196. 

Quinua,  135,  138. 

Quinine,  166. 


Quito,  71 ; Location  of,  69 ; Roads  to,  70;  Tra- 
ditions of,  69. 

Railroads  : Argentina,  301,  329, 364,  375,  376,  379 ; 
Arequipa,  133;  Baggage  regulations  on, 
599 ; Bolivia,  161  ; Brazil,  490,  596 ; British 
Guiana,  607;  Construction,  376;  Narrow 
Gauge,  Antofagasta,  184;  Oroya,  ill;  Pan- 
ama, 30;  Paraguay,  429;  Peru,  78,  85,  122, 
125 ; Petropolis,  524  ; Sao  Paulo,  484 ; San- 
tos, 596;  South  Chile,  243,  245;  Tamrugal, 
187 ; Trans-Andean,  369. 

Recife,  553;  Cotton,  554;  Description  of  556; 
Dutch  in,  556 ; Electricity,  use  of,  556 ; Mar- 
kets, 557;  Population,  554;  Port  of,  554; 
Reef,  553;  Street  cars,  556;  Wages,  555. 

Rica  Villa,  436 ; Population  of,  403,  436. 

Rimac  River,  96,  113. 

Rio  Colorado,  345. 

Rio  de  la  Plata,  295,  389,  393,  458,  564;  Width 
of,  313- 

Rio  de  Janeiro,  500,  548;  Area  of,  512;  Business 
part  of,  515;  Coffee,  501-507,519;  Flagstaffs, 
516;  Foreign  population,  516;  Gastronomy 
of,  519;  Huxsters,  516;  Markets,  518;  Old 
city,  512;  Population,  508;  Portuguese,  508 ; 
Rua  do  Ouvidor,  515;  Situation  of,  508; 
Stores  of,  516;  Street  railways,  595. 

Rio  de  Janeiro,  Bay  of,  508. 

Rio  Grande  do  Sul,  482 ; Climate  of,  483 ; Ger- 
man settlement  in,  483;  Pastures  of,  482  ; 
Street  railroads,  483  ; Wheat,  482. 

Rio  Negro,  345,  457,  579,  613. 

Rio  Vinagre,  52. 

Roca,  Julio  A.,  358. 

Rosario,  342 ; Electric  lights,  342 ; Growth  of, 
342;  Population  of,  301  ; Telephones,  342; 
Wheat,  342. 

Rotos,  238. 

Rubber,  162,  583 ; Bolivia,  165,  176 ; Brazil,  594 ; 
Colombia,  55  ; Debt  labour,  585  ; Forest,  588 ; 
How  made,  587  ; Matto  Grosso,  444 ; Smok- 
ing. 591  Tree,  description  of,  586 , PTn- 
healthful  rubber  lands,  585 ; Visit  to  rubber 
district,  586. 

Rubber  Trust,  American,  584. 

Rubber  Company,  English,  584. 

Rubeirao  Preto,  Station  of,  494. 

Salavary,  208. 

Salt,  72,  184. 

Salto  del  Soldado,  372. 

Salto  Guayra,  439. 

Sand  hills,  Peru,  78. 

Sangai,  mountain,  54. 

San  Jose  de  Chuquito,  447. 

San  Lorenzo  River,  447. 

San  Rosendo,  231. 


INDEX 


625 


San  Salvador,  24. 

Santarem,  571. 

Santiago:  Alameda,  216  ; Carmelite  Nuns,  228; 
Cousino  Park,  221 ; Homes  of  the  rich,  217  ; 
Horse  racing,  223 ; Life  of  the  people,  218  ; 
Opera  in,  222;  Plaza  des  Armes,  217; 
Quinta  Normal  College,  216;  Santa  Lucia, 
215;  Schools  of,  229;  Stores,  218;  Streets, 
216,  View  of,  215. 

Santos,  484 ; Climate,  486  ; Coffee,  501  ; Foreign 
shipping,  486;  Harbour,  4^  j Population, 
489;  Railroad,  596;  Steamship  lines,  490; 
Wharf,  486 ; Yellow  fever,  486. 

Sao  Paulo,  481;  Coffee,  484;  Population,  482; 
Portuguese  in,  486 ; Railroads,  484  > Sit- 
uation of,  483;  Street  cars,  485  ; Wealth  of, 
484. 

Sarmiento,  Mt.,  261. 

Selkirk,  Alexander,  203. 

Sheep:  Argentina,  350;  Falklands,  287-289; 
Uruguay,  457. 

Silver  : Argentina,  297  ; Bolivia,  176,  177  ; Chile, 
196  ; Peru,  92,  179. 

Smyth's  Channel,  Beauties  of,  261-263 ; Icebergs, 
265. 

Sorata,  Mt.,  122. 

Soroche,  mountain  sickness,  120,  375. 

South  America  : Desert  of,  77  ; Freight  rates  to, 
599;  River  traffic  of,  391 ; Mining  in,  53; 
Opportunities  for  money  making,  601 ; Rail- 
roads, in,  134;  Steamship  lines  from  New 
York  to,  599 ; Travel,  cost  of,  in,  602  ; United 
States  steamships  to,  599- 
Street  cars  : Asuncion,  405 ; Electric  street  rail- 
ways, 595 ; Germans,  controlled  by,  596 ; 
Montevideo,  463  ; Pernambuco,  556;  Rio  de 
Janeiro,  595;  Rio  Grande  do  Sul,  483;  Sao 
Paulo,  485;  Valparaiso,  200. 

Sucre,  161. 

Sugar  : Bolivia,  165  ; British  Guiana,  605  ; Ecu- 
ador, 58 ; Pernambuco,  555  ; Peru,  82,  86,  113 ; 
Tucuman,  296;  Venezuela,  61 1,  616. 

Surinam  River,  608. 

Tamrugal,  187. 

Trans-Andean  Railroad,  369;  Construction  of, 
370 ; Length  of,  370 ; Profits  of,  370  ; Station 
of,  371  ; Trip  on,  371. 

Tea,  417. 

T elegraphs  Lines  : Asuncion,  404 ; British  Guiana, 
607;  Chile,  229;  Montevideo,  462;  Valpa- 
raiso, 200. 

Telephones  Lines  : Asuncion,  404  ; Man&os,  582 ; 
Pernambuco,  556;  Rosario,  342;  Valparaiso, 
200. 

Temuco,  243;  American  missions  in,  244;  Arau- 
canians,  250. 

Tiahuanacu,  138 


Tierra  del  Fuego,  260,  278;  Area  of,  278  ; Argen- 
tina interest  in,  279;  Chile  interest  in,  278 ; 
Climate  of,  279;  Fruits  of,  280;  Gold,  280; 
Plains  of,  279 ; Slogget  Bay  mines,  280 ; 
Vegetation  of,  279. 

Tin,  176,  177. 

Tipuani  River,  181. 

Titicaca  Lake,  122,  136;  Area  of,  137;  Balsas, 
140;  Depth  of,  137;  Elevation  of,  136,  137; 
Freight,  how  carried,  14 1 ; How  fed,  138; 
Incas,  138;  Islands  of,  138;  Llamas,  141 ; 
Situation  of,  137 ; Steamboats  on,  139 ; 
Trade  of,  140. 

Titicaca  Island,  137. 

Toba  Indians,  452. 

Tobacco,  426,  616. 

Toro,  Sehora  Emilia  Herrera  de,  A visit  to,  235. 
Trades  Unions,  330. 

Traiguen,  246. 

Tucuman,  Province  of,  296. 

Upsallata  Pass,  370. 

LYuguay  : Area  of,  454  ; Cattle,  number  of,  457 ; 
Cities  of,  457  ; Climate,  457  ; Courtship  and 
marriage,  477  ; Orientales,  469 ; Population, 
457  ; President  of,  465  ; Revolutions  in,  465  ; 
Sheep,  number  of,  457  ; Situation  of,  454 ; 
Soil,  457  ; State  religion,  462;  Water  ways, 
457  ; Women,  473. 

Uruguay  River,  295,  397. 

Valdivia,  246. 

Valdivia,  Pedro,  249. 

Valencia,  615. 

Valparaiso,  199;  Business  of,  200 ; Harbour, 
199;  Telegraph  lines  of,  200;  Telephone 
lines,  200 ; Population,  199 ; Street  cars,  200 ; 
Women  street  car  conductors,  200. 

Veruguas  River,  1 17. 

Venezuela:  Area  of,  610 ; Cacao,  611 ; Coffee, 
6 1 1 ; Congress,  618;  Gold,  614;  Harbours 
of,  616 ; Llanos,  612,  614  ; President  of,  618  ; 
Religions  of,  618;  Stock  farming,  614; 
Sugar,  61 1 ; United  States  trade  with,  610; 
Vegetation  of,  614. 

Victoria,  Mt.,  259. 

Vicuna,  142. 

Vina  del  Mar,  372. 

Vincocoya,  122. 

Virgens,  Cape,  260. 

Vitor,  126. 

Washington,  George,  617. 

Wheat  : Argentina,  297  ; Chile,  231 ; Rio  Grande 
do  Sul,  482;  Rosario,  342. 

Wool,  287-289. 

Yucca,  Ecuador,  64. 

Yauri,  I7q. 

Yaghan  Indians,  266,  283,  284. 


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